Fragments
by FairyLies
Summary: AU Quinntana One-shots.
1. Helium Balloons & Stick-on Tattoos

******Master AN: **I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

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**Helium Balloons & Stick-on Tattoos **[M]

**Summary: **QW13 DAY01— Quinn Fabray is a videogame developer, flying to LA for another interstate meeting. On the plane, Quinn meets someone who randomly decides to make it her mission to make the blonde's life a little more exciting.

**AN: **Extended version.

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"Hey, you forgot this," you turn around when you feel a light tap on your left shoulder, coming face to face with a stranger holding your phone. You flash the tanned woman a quick but grateful smile, barely looking at her face, before taking the slim gadget and moving away from the JFK airport security conveyor belt.

You adjust the laptop bag hanging on your shoulder and make your way to the designated gate, rehearsing your impending presentation in your head. You settle into one of the plastic chairs, taking out your iPad to go through the prepared PowerPoint for the nth time.

The shrill sound of a little girl shrieking ruins your train of through, impelling you to look around and note how packed the waiting lounge is— full of chatty families and couples, leaving only a few seats unoccupied. You release a heavy sigh before repacking the tablet, knowing that there was no way you can focus with all the background noise.

You feel someone take the seat beside you, but you don't even bother to tear your eyes off your sneakers to get a better look, your natural shyness forbidding you from doing so. You're not really sociable, you actually prefer being alone most of the time, it helps when it comes to organizing your thoughts.

You're not a hermit or a recluse, but you're not Ms. Popularity either, _far from actually_, in high school you were one of the biggest nerds of McKinley… Oh well, you're 22 and you absolutely love your job— from where you're standing right now, all of the slushie facials were worth it.

"Hi," you ignore the small voice, assuming that it wasn't directed at you. "Hey there—" A miniature hand is waved in front of your face, compelling you to look up and finally address the kid.

"Hello?" You respond unsurely, making the young brunette girl in front of you grin. You crease your forehead, confused as to why she was talking to you. "Can I help you with something?"

"Can I play with your iPad?" The younger girl, stands on crossed ankles and bashfully averts her eyes to the floor. "I saw you playing with it a while ago and I was wondering if I could play with you or something."

You furrow your eyebrows at the unexpected request—you weren't playing anything. Well, you love videogames, they're your passion _as well _as your career, but your iPad is purely for work purposes, thus you don't really _'play'_ with it.

"I wasn't— I mean, yeah okay," you deter the supposed dismissal as soon as a hint of a frown appears on her face. You bring out the device again and load your _only_ game, some lame old version of Bejeweled that you used to mess around with during your office breaks.

You play a couple of rounds, discreetly letting her dominate. You find out that her name is Georgia and that she's seven years old, you introduce yourself as Quinn. She asks for your age and calls you an oldie as soon as she finds out that you're 22. "I'm not that old," you argue and she solemnly shakes her head, amusing you even more.

"You're 22!" She exclaims and you chuckle softly, nodding your head at the reality. "That means you're not even a teenager anymore, face it, Quinn… You're old."

"Well, when you put it like that… I guess I am kind of old," you lightheartedly slant your lips and sigh, Georgia pats the back of your hand comfortingly and reloads the game. You wonder why on Earth you're allowing this all to happen, but you guess it's just because you're bored and the kid, who's getting fingerprints all over your screen, is undeniably adorable.

You hear the overhead speaker crackle before a monotonous female voice flows through, notifying everyone that it was time to board the plane. Georgia reluctantly says goodbye when her mother comes to get her, the older woman smiling at you gratefully for entertaining one of her kids. "It was nice meeting you Quinn, 22."

"Likewise, Georgia, 7," you grin at her and she giggles before skipping away, towards the rest of her family. You gather your belongings before standing up and heading to the jet bridge, the crewmembers smile at you as you make your way inside the plane, cheerfully leading you to your business class seat.

You've always liked planes, you like the idea that you're flying up in the sky, a feat that was literally impossible at one point in human history. You get comfortable in the window seat, stowing your small bag underneath the seat in front of you for easy access. You look out the irregularly shaped window, watching the busy personnel run around the tarmac like ants. The shutting sound produced by the overhead compartment above you, brings you out of your daze, you look to your right and your breath hitches in your throat.

_She's beautiful._

Your eyes greedily consume the image of the Latina that was strapping herself onto the aisle seat right beside you. But after a couple of seconds, you snap your head forward, afraid that she'll catch you creepily staring at her. You feel your face heat up at the embarrassing possibility, this is another reason why you don't have a lot of friends… _You're pretty much socially awkward._

You have this powerful urge to start a random conversation with her— it's a five-hour flight to LA and come on, she looks like a goddess— but you predictably bite your tongue and shake away the irrational desire. You already found it difficult to properly interact with a seven year old, what more this angelic being, who seems to be around your age. You inwardly roll your eyes at how pathetic you are, you're pretty sure you're going to die single…

Right before takeoff, you feel her eyes on the side of your face, but you don't meet her gaze, choosing to blankly stare at nothing instead. She looks away soon enough and you let out a soft sound of relief at the welcomed lack of scrutiny. You impatiently wait for the aircraft to become stable enough for the use of gadgets to be permitted, needing something to distract you from the beautiful stranger, whose sweet scent was relentlessly invading your senses despite its subtlety.

The announcement regarding electronics eventually comes and you mentally pump your fist, almost lunging forward to retrieve your iPad and tinker around with it. You see her shift a little through your peripheral vision, catching a glimpse of tangled white earphones and a red music player. It takes her a while to unknot the mess and you try your best to fight off the smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

_She's cute too._

Your imagination swells with thoughts regarding her life— she seems like the type who can land _any_ job she wants… Oh and, without a doubt she's taken, most probably by someone equally attractive. You inconspicuously grimace at the image of this stranger in the arms of someone else, it makes you feel rather ill despite the fact that you have no claim over her whatsoever. You haven't even said _one_ word to her…

You grit your teeth because you're acting ridiculous— this is just another flight for another interstate meeting and she's just another one of your co-passengers. Arguably, the best-looking person you've ever encountered on a plane (or anywhere else actually), but a mere passenger nonetheless. A flight attendant asks you a question about your meal, forcing you to drop the busy façade and finally look to your right again.

You figure that she's done talking to him because her ear buds are on, her head adorably moving in tune with whatever it is that she was listening to. You indifferently give your order, knowing that your choice is irrelevant because you've been on enough flights to know that airplane food will _never_ be able to impress you. "Alright, how about for your friend?"

His question confuses you immensely— _what friend_? Realization dawns upon you and you shake your head, informing him that you weren't with _her_. An embarrassed look crosses his features before a trained charming smile reappears, he easily gets her attention and she quickly removes her earphones with one tug on the thin wire.

You can't help but notice that their conversation was a lot more _colorful_ than the one you had. It irritates you because they're discussing the _same_ goddamn chicken, beef and fish on the menu— it shouldn't take more than a minute…

They exchange coy statements and you envy his ability to openly flirt with the woman, whose raspy voice makes your mouth feel drier. The infuriating cabin attendant finally leaves when one of the other members of his crew gives him the stink eye for being inappropriate.

You don't realize that you're _still _staring until she flashes her perfect set of white teeth at you causing your eyes to widen. "Hi there," she starts friendlily and you nod like an idiot. "Umm?" Surprisingly, she doesn't look offended by your lack of manners, more like amused.

"I'm sorry, hey," you muster up an awkward grin, unsure of how to proceed. "You chose the chicken, right?" You lamely ask, making a note to smack yourself in the back of the head later on. She nods, chuckling at your question. "Cool, me too," you shrug, nervously adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were resting on the bridge of your nose before making an about-turn and focusing on the bright screen on your lap once more.

"How old are you?"

It takes your brain a while to register that she's still talking to you… You blink a couple of times, wondering if you were hallucinating because of the drastic altitude change. You face her and see an expectant look on her face, telling you that you didn't mishear, your etiquette demanding you to pack up your iPad and give her your undivided attention. "I'm 22," you hold back the _'why'_ that was hanging on your tongue, afraid that you'll come off as defensive or something.

"Really?" You nod because you don't know how else to reply. "I mean, I'm 21," she chuckles and rolls her eyes at herself. "And I fly a lot for my job and this is seriously the first time I'm not sitting beside someone that's twice my age."

You understand what she's trying to say, you two are probably the only ones less than 30 in this section of the plane. You're curious about what she does for a living so you bite the bullet and ask— she started talking to you first anyway. "What do you do?"

Of course you couldn't say it more eloquently than _that_… "Well, right now I'm trying out modeling," she shrugs, obviously downplaying her occupation— she's probably really successful, _just look at her face_. You consider her voice, amazed that she can sound so confident without a hint of cockiness. "How about you?"

You run your tongue over your bottom lip, momentarily considering tweaking the truth since you don't know how she'll react, but you've never been much of a liar so you answer honestly. "I develop videogames," you mumble out, waiting for her to laugh or snort, but the derogatory sounds never come.

"That's awesome," she twists her body so she could improve her view of you. "I'm not surprised, you seemed like that type."

You worry your lip in between your teeth after her statement. "Yeah, I'm pretty nerdy-looking, huh?" It was meant to be funny, but humor was never your strong suit so it just came off as pitiful.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," she gently places her hand over your forearm and you freeze at the contact, making her frown and retract the touch. "Sorry," she apologizes before continuing with her explanation. "What I'm trying to say is you seemed like one of those people with one of those super cool jobs that no one else has."

The food arrives, buying you some more time to decipher if she's being sarcastic or not… You only heard sincerity though and it's so damn puzzling, it just doesn't make sense that someone _like her_ is being nice to someone like you— like _this_, especially. Good job, you just confused yourself even more. "Yeah, the labor force is pretty small," you comment as you begin to pick at the fruits on your tray. "It's a lot of fun though, I get to mess around with games way before they're available in the market."

"Like which ones?" She asks, seemingly very interested, her nimble fingers moving about her food containers without her eyes leaving you. You can't even begin to fathom why she appears to care, but a pretty girl wants you to talk about videogames and miracles like this don't happen everyday… So you tell her all about the company you work for and the well-known console games that you are associated with, in between bites of your sub-par meal. "God, that sounds awesome."

Again, you try to sense the presence of sarcasm, but there was just no way that the gorgeous smile across her lips was anything less than genuine. "Not as _awesome_ as modeling though," you almost gag on the informal and overly used adjective— she deserves so much more than the inferior praise. "I'm not really familiar with the fashion world, but I'm sure you're successful. I mean, look at you, your features are incredibly symmetric… Plus, you seem really fit, I mean not that I'm objectifying your body cause I'm really not. I'm just trying to say—"

A lone finger is pressed onto your lips, cutting off your nonsensical rambling. "Breathe," she says through a grin. "Thanks for thinking I'm _symmetric_," she winks and you cover your face with your palms out of shame. "Star points for originality."

_Smooth, Fabray._

"You're making fun of me," you pout and she chuckles before shaking her head, declaring that she was only kidding. The annoying flight attendant from earlier returns shortly after, this time to take away your half-finished food trays.

You're glad that she hardly acknowledges him, forcing him to disappointedly walk away before he can unintentionally aggravate you some more. You catch her eyelids crease slightly before her mouth parts, releasing a quiet yawn. "You should take a nap, we still have a bit of time before we land," you state, pressing the fitted "call" button on your seat and immediately requesting for a blanket when a tall stewardess politely asks you what you needed.

The blonde comes back, wielding a thin blue blanket that you quickly hand over to the lovely woman beside you. You intently watch as her dimples emerge, a wide smile raising her cheekbones even higher. "You're sweet," she says while draping the thin sheet over her body and adjusting herself on the seat to get more comfortable. "Thanks, I just really need a couple of minutes of shut-eye," she murmurs sleepily before another adorable yawn comes out.

You just smile and nod, wanting her to fall asleep sooner. You can tell that she needs rest… Well, based on her flawless facial features, it isn't obvious but you're attentive. You noticed it in the way she would slightly shake her head as if to keep herself awake or knock herself out of a daydream. It doesn't take long for her breathing to even out and you pry your eyes off her because your creeper score is high enough as it is.

The plane passes through a group of clouds a while later, making all of the passengers experience some light turbulence. You disregard the ordinary shakiness, reaching for your bag— a hand lands on your forearm for the second time, halting your movements. "What's wrong?"

"What was that?" She responds with her own question, obviously shaken up. You want to inappropriately smile because she's just so cute even when she's illogically scared but you hold it in, putting her at ease instead.

"Just some minor turbulence, nothing to worry about," you reassure her, placing your free hand over hers, ignoring the way your stomach knotted at the additional contact. "It's okay, you can go back to sleep, remember that flying is the safest mode of transportation. According to statistics, it's about 22 times safer than driving a car."

Your _'nerdiness'_ likes to rear its brainy head whenever you're nervous, maybe it's some sort of defense mechanism, you're not really sure… "Really?"

"Really," you affirm before pulling your hand away, your palm feels all tingly and the part of your arm that she's _still_ touching has kind of gone numb— it's a good kind of numb though. "Get some more rest."

"Alright, I trust you," she smiles without showing her teeth before shocking you completely by resting her head atop your right shoulder without warning. "Just relax," she coos and you take in a sharp breath.

_Relax? How?_

You've never been a touchy person so this is new… You squeeze your eyes shut and try to keep yourself perfectly still so you don't contribute to the wobbliness of the flight.

"I told you to relax," she reminds you, snuggling closer and rendering you speechless. "Sleep," she whispers out and you nod, telling your mind to just shut up and allow you to enjoy whatever it is this was.

It doesn't make sense that the dream began before the slumber, but you weren't about to complain.

-.-.-.-.-

You two went through the whole arrival process together and now you're both finally standing outside the airport doors, carrying your respective luggage. You honestly don't know what to do now… Get her number? Ask her out? Find out what her name is? The last one seems like the most practical option so you side-glance her and wordlessly count to three before blurting out the question. "What's your name?"

Both of her eyebrows shoot up and for some reason, you feel like you made a mistake. She regards you keenly, letting her brown eyes guzzle you down as if it were the first time she was actually looking at you. You feel like crumbling under the intense examination, but you hold your ground, it's her turn to react— her move.

The sound of plastic colliding onto the pavement lets you know that she let go of her small suitcase since your eyes have yet to leave her face. She sandwiches your cheeks using both of her warm hands and you're sure you resemble a puffer fish right now, but you don't mind, the electricity running through you from the pads of her fingertips was a good enough consolation. "Are you a serial killer?"

"What?"

"Are you a criminal?" You shake your head slowly, quite bewildered, trying to figure where exactly she was going with this. She carefully slips off your glasses, blurring your surroundings and her profile within seconds. "Will you hurt me?"

"Never," you answer without a pause because you honestly can't imagine ever causing the woman in front of you any form of pain. She restores your vision and you see a satisfied smile grace her lips, she walks away without a word, reclaiming her fallen baggage. "Where are you going?" You ask in a panic when she begins to distance herself from you, anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

"Getting us a cab, we need to get you to your hotel," she turns around long enough to wink at you and you're absolutely lost right now, drowning in questions and longing for answers. "Hey, let's go!"

You incredulously gape at her— she's standing outside a taxi with a warm smile, holding one of the back doors open and motioning for you to come closer. None of this makes sense, you don't know her at all and yet you foolishly gravitate towards and enter the yellow vehicle, settling beside the stranger once again. She asks you where you're staying and you answer straight away.

You don't understand what's happening, all you know is that there's just _something_ stopping you from thinking rationally and walking away from her.

-.-.-.-.-

"What are your plans while you're here?" She asks from where she was sitting on the edge of _your_ hotel bed, you've been inside the suite with her for almost 10 minutes and quite frankly, you're starting to suffocate. Well, of course not literally, but there's just too much going on for you to breathe properly. "Oh and, how long will you be here for?"

You debate with yourself whether you should continue answering her questions or not— _she doesn't answer yours… _You relent though, powerless against those bright brown orbs. "I have this whole day meeting-thing tomorrow and then I leave early Wednesday morning." That basically gives you only two nights of free time in LA, already counting tonight— not that you think you would need any free time.

"It seems like we won't have a lot of time together then," she frowns and you scrunch your eyebrows in puzzlement. "It's okay, we'll make it work."

_What is she talking about?_

"Look, I'm so confused right now, I'm starting to get a migraine," you sink into the black chair positioned across the bed. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I really don't understand what's going on…" You exhale heavily, rubbing your temples to stifle your headache. "And what do you mean by _'we'll make it work'_?"

She chuckles and the sound makes you bite back a smile. "You're cute, you know that, right?" You feel blood rush up to your cheeks and you're sure you're sporting a crimson glow right now. "What are the first five things that come into your head when you think about the word '_wild'_?"

"Huh?" You shake your head before she can say anything else. "_No_, no more strange questions, _at least_, not until I get some answers," you backtrack, you're honestly afraid that she'll just up and leave, disappearing from you life forever. "_I just_— I want to know your name."

"There's Wi-Fi in here, right?"

_Right, yet another peculiar question…_

"Yeah, but—"

"I don't like talking about myself so here," she takes out her phone and begins to tap on the screen. "Just check this out," she saunters over to you and hands it over.

You use your thumb to scroll through the Wikipedia page, reading the name 'Santana' over and over again— _Santana Lopez_. The webpage proves to you that she is in fact a model, a successful one at that… You gulp audibly because the room's temperature just skyrocketed—well, she isn't a nameless stranger anymore. You tensely give her back the gadget, refusing to meet her eyes by looking at everything but her.

"Oh okay, nice to meet you then, _umm_, Santana Lopez." You stammer out, heading to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water. You chug down the cold liquid, hoping that it well help quell your nerves, but it doesn't provide the desired effect.

_She's way out of your league. You need to put an end to all of this nonsense… Now._

"What's your name? I think it's only fair for me to find out," her voice makes you jump and you feel even clumsier than usual in her presence. "Are you okay?"

"My name is Quinn Fabray," you tell her while staring at the carpeted floor. You walk back to the chair, in need of something to help you with the fight against gravity. You feel like your brain is going to fry out soon, you recall a couple of Physics concepts and wonder if you somehow unknowingly entered an alternate universe, where supermodels actually spoke to losers…

_Where mere strangers could be something more?_

You sigh at your own naivety, you need to get _those_ thoughts out of your head. You're delusional if you think she's interested in you in _that _way. She's a model and you're a game developer for Christ's sake— that's a horrible match. "Alright, now that the name business is settled… Answer my question."

You rack your brain to remember what it is she was talking about but you fall short— too absorbed by your new notions about the woman in front of you. "What was it again?"

"What are the first five things that come into your head when you think about the word '_wild'_?" She repeats and you meticulously process the query.

_Wild?_

"What do you mean?"

"The five wildest things you can think of doing," she shrugs her shoulders as if the meaning behind her question was supposed to be common knowledge.

"Umm, get drunk," Santana looks disappointed with the answer but allows you to continue. "Steal something? I mean, I take that one back, breaking the law is too much—" You start to stumble over you words. This doesn't fall under your expertise, you aren't wild— not at all. "I don't understand why you're asking me this."

"I'm just curious, okay? Come on, Quinn, use your imagination and give me the wildest scenarios in that brilliant head of yours."

Her flattery works and you go on with the list in spite of the struggle. "How about get a tattoo?" She grins and nods, you enjoy that smile of hers way too much and you want to keep seeing it. "Try illegal drugs," you say more surely than all the others.

"Now you're talking," she says with a sexy smirk. "Alright, what's the last one?"

It takes you a while, but your eyes help you come up with something. You let them run over Santana's body and the way her clothes marvelously clung onto her amazing body. "A one night stand," you whisper out, plainly surprising the both of you. A look similar to worry pops up on her face but it disappeared as swiftly as it arrived.

"Not a bad list, Fabray," she commends you before stretching out her upper limbs and yawning. "Okay, let's both take a quick nap then let's get this show on the road."

You're about to ask her what in bloody hell is she talking about, but she takes off her shoes and lies down on the left side of _your_ bed, engulfing herself with the white comforter.

All the unanswered questions are burning in your throat, but you refuse to bother her now… _There's always later, right? _You sigh because of confusion for what feels like the millionth time today, deciding to just get some work done on your laptop while Santana is dozing off.

You decide it's the smart thing to do since you can't concentrate on anything _but her_ when she's awake.

-.-.-.-.-

"What time is it?" The scratchiness of her still sleepy voice sends a shiver down your spine, entrancing your eyes away from your computer. She looks adorable sitting up on you bed, squinting at you with her raven hair all disheveled. You check the top right corner of the screen for the time and let her now that it was almost 4 in the afternoon— she's been out for more than 3 hours. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Was I supposed to?" You crinkle your brow, closing your laptop and depositing it on top of the coffee table. "You looked comfortable and I assumed you needed to rest."

"I wasted too much time," she hastily shoots out of the bed, slipping on both of her shoes. You watch as she combs her fingers through her hair and fixes her appearance in front of the mirror.

_She's really beautiful._

"Where are you going?" You supposed that this is it, she was finally going to depart and you're finally going to re-enter reality. She turns around and raises an eyebrow, she looks sort of insulted, but you've pretty much given up on trying to read her.

"Well, _we're_ going to check off all the items on that list of yours," Santana says matter-of-factly, your eyes widen because it's impossible that you heard her right. "We only have two nights, we need to cram everything before you leave."

"Are you insane?"

_She probably is…_

"No," she shakes her head and smirks. "But let's just say that things are going to get pretty crazy around here."

"_Santana_, that list is stupid and partly illegal, I have no plans on participating in whatever this is," you say through a clenched jaw because you've had enough of this game you're unwillingly playing. You're so damn tired of not knowing what's happening and you just want it all to stop. "I think you should go."

"You're 22, you really should live a little," she walks over to you, way too close for your logical mind, but not close enough for your body. There's just something about her that inexplicably sets all of your senses ablaze. "I promise you won't regret it, just trust me," she extends a hand towards you and it takes you a while to make a decision, but in the end you choose to dance with the devil and succumb to Santana's request.

You blame that dangerously attractive smile of hers for the lapse in judgment that you're certainly making.

-.-.-.-.-

[ ]Get Drunk  
[ ]Steal Something  
[ ]Get a Tattoo  
[ ]Take Drugs  
[ ]Have a One Night Stand

You feel your face pale after going through the list Santana typed out on her phone— what the hell were you thinking? Of course, you weren't expecting Santana to do _this _when you gave her those answers but _still_…

_What the hell were you thinking?_

The sky was already starting to dim because it was nearing sunset and yet she still managed to convince you to go to some park. "Do you see that balloon vendor over there?" She points at a man with a moustache that was carrying a tray of trinkets and gizmos, standing beside a bunch of brightly colored helium balloons that were delicately swaying in the mild wind. You can see that all of his attention was on the kids that were browsing through his commodities. "Steal a balloon."

"What?"

"It's right there and it's an easy way to get rid of number two," she shrugs one shoulder. "Plus, I'm sure he won't even notice."

"I don't want to steal a balloon," you refuse, folding your arms over your chest.

"Come on, Quinn, you'll be fine," she grins encouragingly and you roll your eyes. "If he catches you, I'll come over and save you," you groan before reluctantly strolling over to the salesman.

_Seriously, what did you get yourself into?_

You're glad your back is turned to her, this way she's completely oblivious to your act of deception. "Hey mister— wait, wait, don't face me," you breathe in sharply because of the near-disaster. "My friend is making me steal a balloon cause I think she's partly insane but my conscience won't let me do it so I'm gonna untie one and I'll drop five bucks the floor… Cough if that's fine with you."

A sigh of relief escapes your lips when you hear him fake a cough, you untangle the closest balloon, which was a red one. You make sure to inconspicuously drop the bill before flitting back to Santana, triumphantly beaming at her. "I got—" you questioningly eye the man she was talking to, but he leaves as soon as they notice your presence.

"Yay, you did it," she congratulates you, stuffing a brown paper bag into her purse. "Okay, four more, Quinny."

"Who was that?" Seriously, the questions just keep on coming when you're around her… "And what's in the bag?"

"You'll find out later, don't worry," she hooks an arm through yours and you intake a harsh gust of air. _You're really not used to pretty girls touching you…_ "Let's sit down?" You nod dumbly before handing her the string of the balloon, mumbling out a soft _'for you'_, meriting you another one of those captivating smiles.

You both lie down on a free section of the grass, you brush off the thoughts about all the bacteria you're exposing yourself to. It's okay, you're pretty sure your immune system can take it. "Santana, I really don't think we'll be able to check off everything on that list."

"Why not?" She quirks an eyebrow before jiggling the floating balloon. "You did pretty amazing with number two," she tells you proudly, you ignore the slight guilt because what she doesn't know can't hurt her… It's not a big deal, it's just a simple lie of omission— it's better than breaking the law.

"Be reasonable, how am I going to get through the other things on that list?" You grimace, you can't visualize yourself permanently marking your body, taking illegal narcotics or having insignificant intercourse—_ just no_. Maybe, you can get drunk, but if you're being honest, drinking alcohol is already out of your comfort zone. "Can we just forget about the whole thing?"

"You know my favorite color is red," she says, her eyes fixed on the balloon hovering above your bodies. It really should infuriate you, the way she changes topics without notice but it _doesn't_ and _that's _what irritates you— she has you so wrapped up around her finger though you only met her a couple of hours ago. "You remind me a lot of this balloon…"

"I remind you of a balloon?" You scrunch your face up confusedly, you have no idea how to perceive the statement so you wait for her to explain.

"Yeah, you're so bright and full of magic, but you have this tiny string holding you back from so many things," she squints at it, making you examine it closer— you don't know where the striking analogy came from, but for some reason what she said makes sense, as if she just effortlessly analyzed your whole life in less than a day.

A stranger shouldn't be able to read you this well, especially not a stranger who you can't read at all.

It's unfair.

"I've never been compared to a balloon before," you tell her softly, you didn't really have anything to say, but the silence was starting to get to you and you needed to pacify your overheating brain.

"Well, there's always a first time for everything," she turns to face you and winks before releasing her grip on the thread that was keeping the balloon anchored. "Now, let me set _you_ free too."

You feel your mouth dry up because you didn't think it was possible for things to become even more surreal, but her whole speech gave you inexplicable chills and even if you're mind knows it's a bad idea— you nod. You nod like a brainless zombie, maintaining your sight on the balloon as it uninterruptedly ascends upwards, towards the changing sky and beyond.

You're at her mercy now and for the rest of the trip— she's in control.

And the worst part is that you honestly don't mind, because the feelings she gives you are the kind of feelings people write novels and songs about.

-.-.-.-.-

"I don't know about this, Santana," you dry swallow, surveying the doorway to the bar cautiously. "Maybe we should just head back to the hotel already," it was getting late and you both just finished having a typical dinner. You were expecting to call it a day afterwards, but Santana spontaneously decided that it was time for you to tick off another one of the outrageous milestones. That's why you're both currently standing outside some tavern, listening to the bass puncture through the establishment's walls.

"This is already me compromising," she gives you a pointed look and you sigh. "I wanted to take you to a club, remember?" You make a face at the idea of being trapped inside some dark venue that's filled to the brim with sweaty and intoxicated people, grinding against each other like animals.

_No thank you._

"I have that conference tomorrow and I need to wake up early," you remind her, in hopes of escaping the whole ordeal. She just chuckles, grabbing your wrist and leading you inside. You suppose the place could be a lot worse, at least there weren't too many people around, allowing you to take in a sufficient amount of oxygen even if the air was laced with the odor of old liquor.

_It's bearable…_

You take a seat in one of the unoccupied circular booths, scrupulously inspecting your surroundings. It's safe to say that a bar isn't really your scene, actually, _any_ institution that serves intoxicants isn't your scene. You're more of a stay-at-home kind of girl, where you can safely bond with your PS3 and master the controls of some random videogame… You're still baffled that all of this is _really_ happening, that you actually met someone on a plane this morning, who for some unbeknownst reason made it her mission to make your life more exciting.

So far— she's succeeding.

"What are you in the mood for?" She inquires, handing you a laminated piece of paper, which held the drink list. You worry your lip, the unfamiliar and peculiar names of the drinks were making you nervous… _Screaming orgasm? _You shake your head and push back the menu, you don't trust yourself with the decision.

"You pick," you shrug coolly, running your eyes around the dim room once again. Santana leaves to get the alcoholic beverages and you feel your heart race, you may have been uncomfortable as soon as you entered, but without Santana by your side— the feeling is at least ten times worse. You awkwardly fiddle with your glasses, counting the passing stretched-out seconds in silence.

"I was going to get you something that tasted nice, but then I realized that we're trying to get you drunk," she places down 4 shot glasses full of yellowish gold liquid and someone comes over with a plate of lime slices and a mound of salt.

You pick up one of the glasses and bring it to your nose, whiffing in the heady scent of the alcohol. You scrunch your face up, already feeling like gagging. "I'm scared."

"You'll be fine, trust me," Santana licks a short stripe across the back of her hand and sprinkles salt on the moist skin, you watch in fascination, taking mental notes for your turn. "Cheers," she laps up the tiny granules, knocks back the shot and promptly bites on a lime piece, adorably scrunching her face up a bit. "See? Easy."

You're not convinced, but drinking won't _kill _you so you decide to just get it over with. You clumsily copy what Santana did with the salt before picking up one of the dreaded glasses and fearfully eyeing it. You fasten your eyes closed and bring the rim to your lips, cringing at the first taste before letting the tequila enter your mouth and torrent down your throat. "Eww," you stick your tongue out and Santana hands you a lime wedge that you voraciously suck on, wanting to get rid of the awful taste.

"Not that bad, right?" Santana asks cheekily and you glare at her, not amused. "Come on, these are both yours—" She pushes the two remaining shot glasses towards you and you shake your head. _No way. _"I can't drink too much cause I need to make sure you get back to your hotel safely… Plus, this is _your _list."

"San—"

She pouts and you sigh before grudgingly reaching for the salt to repeat the whole process, _twice_. Santana orders mixed drinks afterwards and you relish in the new flavor on your taste buds, guzzling down the blue fluid. "Woah, slow down there—_or not_," she chuckles when I place the empty glass on the table.

_So much better than tequila…_

"My face feels funny," you pinch your own cheeks and you look around the room, but doing so makes your head spin so you stop, choosing to stare at Santana instead. "I'm dizzy."

Santana grins before holding her phone in front of your eyes, it takes your hazy brain a while to work out what she was showing you…

[X]Get Drunk  
[X]Steal Something  
[ ]Get a Tattoo  
[ ]Take Drugs  
[ ]Have a One Night Stand

You beam at her and she smiles back, you're not sure if it's because you're undoubtedly intoxicated, but there's now a miniscule part of you that thinks you can actually get through this preposterous bucket list.

-.-.-.-.-

"I'm okay now, I think—" You chug down some more water, knowing how important hydration is. You take a seat on your bed because your legs are still rather wobbly. "I'm sorry," you tell her quietly, still too shy to look her in the eye. It's a bit past midnight and you two just made it back to your suite. You still feel a moderate buzz in your system, but it's tolerable.

You can't believe you vomited your guts out in front of Santana on the way back here… It's like you're trying to make sure that she'll _never_ be attracted to you.

"It's fine, Quinn, I promise," she holds up her right hand and winks at you. "It's part of the experience," she lets out a small laugh and you chuckle yourself. "I'm just glad you didn't pass out or anything."

"Me too," you say dopily.

"I think we can mark off another one tonight, I mean, if you want to that is," Santana seems nervous for the first time and you wrinkle your eyebrows, wondering which item she was referring to. She slips off the jacket on her shoulders and a lump forms in your throat.

_A one night stand?_

"I- _I don't know if I_- I think I—" You stupidly stutter out, fighting to keep your breathing in check. Your overactive imagination takes control and it's as if you miraculously gained X-ray vision because all you can see is Santana's amazing body. Your face flushes and white heat spreads down your neck, reaching your fingertips and littlest toes.

"What's wrong?" Santana takes out the brown paper bag from earlier and sits beside you on the bed. "If you don't want to, I get it… I'm not going to force you," she brings out a Ziploc of _cigarettes_? She takes one of the white sticks out and sniffs it, smiling after. "He wasn't kidding when he said it was fresh," she comments.

You notice the twisted tops and you feel stupid for not realizing earlier that they were joints and not tobacco cigarettes.

_Marijuana…_

"Oh, you were talking about number four," you slip out before processing your words, she lifts an eyebrow at your disappointed tone and you mentally slap yourself— _hard_.

"What did you _thi_—oh," her lips form an 'o' shape and you hide your face in your palms. "Umm, I- did you mean—"

It's the first time you've ever seen Santana at a loss for words and it's making things worse, your ears are now on fire because of embarrassment. You just want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. She parts her mouth, but you beat her to it by speaking first. "Okay, I want to try it," you declare, hoping to change the topic before things become even more awkward.

"Quinn—"

"I'll try the weed… Let's just get it over with already," you reach for the joint in her hand, but she snatches it away from you. "I said I'll—"

"We don't have to keep going if you don't want to, alright? This whole thing is supposed to be fun for you, Quinn… I don't want you to just go through with this because you're doing it for me," she stands up and you sigh deeply, letting her words sink in.

This is your chance to back out… You just need to tell her that you're done playing and it will be game over, you wouldn't have to deal with all of these distressing stunts anymore.

Everything can go back to normal— life before Santana.

The thought alone makes you cringe, you're fully aware that you just met Santana less than a day ago, but she's already made such an impact in your dull life… You don't know what you want to happen exactly, but you're sure that you don't want her to vanish, you don't want whatever this is to be over. Maybe you're pushing your limits when you're around her, but it isn't necessarily a bad thing…

_She's just cutting off your string._

"I'm having fun," you sincerely state, willing her to believe you with your eyes. "I actually haven't had this much fun in— well, _ever_," you probably sound pathetic, but you're just being true to how you feel. "You're part of the reason why I'm doing this, but I'm doing it for myself too… I'm not sure about the other things on the list—" You skew your lips and she nods in understanding. "But I think I can handle _this _so… I want to keep going."

"I probably don't need to ask but… Have you smoked anything before?" You shake your head and a hint of smile crosses her lips. She takes out a white lighter from her purse and slides open the door to the balcony, you follow her out and close the glass behind you. She sparks up the end of the joint and the unfamiliar scent attacks your sense of smell, generating unattractive sneezes from your innocent self. "Bless you," she sucks on the joint a couple of times, allowing the smoke to travel from her lips, into her nostrils. You watch in wonderment when she starts to blow out perfect smoke circles. "Whenever I smoke up after a night of drinking, my hangovers aren't that bad when I wake up."

She extends to you the lit roll and you slowly take it, holding it like a cigarette at first, but then she positions it in between your pointer finger and thumb. "I just suck?" She nods, seemingly amused by your newbie status. You bring the roach to your lips and inhale through your mouth, the smoke instantaneously burns your throat and you start to cough wildly, dropping the joint and covering your mouth with both palms.

"Slower, Quinn," she tells you gently, picking up the fallen joint. This time she holds it up to you and tells you to inhale softly. She's _so_ close, you're not sure what's making you lightheaded anymore.

The alcohol from a while ago? The cannabis you're smoking now? Santana?

Something inside you tells you it's the last one and it's kind of really scary that _she_ can inebriate you like this… You enclose your thin lips around the now-moist tip and unhurriedly draw the white fog in, you cross your eyes to watch the other end burn, the fiery orange color descending a fraction. She pulls away and you breathe out, watching the smoke leave your lungs and totally vanish. Your throat still feels sort of itchy, but it doesn't hurt like it did a while ago.

Santana smiles at you proudly and you feel so accomplished, it feels like you just aced an exam or something equally fulfilling. She puffs on the stick again and your jaw drops because _it_ just hit you— you indirectly kissed Santana. Yeah, it's preschool logic, but your face turns light scarlet all the same. She offers you the joint again and you chew on the inside of your cheek, debating with your conscience…

You know that she'll be okay with it if you refuse, and you can already cross out _'Take Drugs'_ on the list because the amount of narcotics that you needed to take wasn't predetermined anyway. But you don't want this moment to end yet so you decide to let go of your qualms and pluck the joint from her.

The two of you pass the joint back and forth in comfortable silence, bar from your occasional coughs, until there's nothing left to smoke. You feel lighter, somewhat numb yet also more sensitive— you actually don't understand what you're feeling. Everything is just… Nice? You start to smile and Santana looks at you curiously. She's so pretty that you smile even bigger, baring your teeth. "What's up?"

A chuckle escapes you and the sound leads to you laughing like an idiot. Santana joins you and you feel less stupid, you admire the face she makes while laughing, the way her eyes crumple up and her cheeks rise. You briefly wonder how it's possible for her to still look so exquisite when she's cackling like a hyena, but then it _is _Santana and you're certain that it's impossible for her to do anything unattractively.

You laugh until your tummy starts to hurt, until happy tears begin to form in your hazel eyes. You laugh until nothing comes out anymore.

"Fuck, I forgot how good laughing felt," she pants out, wiping away a stray tear in the corner of her eye. You nod in understanding, still dazedly smiling and trying to catch your breath. "You're high," she says in a teasing tone and you just nod because that's _exactly_ how you feel.

You feel like you're flying… You feel like the balloon.

"I'm a balloon!" You blurt out excitedly and she points at your face, wildly bobbing her head up and down. "I'm a balloon!" You repeat, you've never felt this good before, and you know that it isn't just because of the weed. "Thank you, Santana."

"For?"

"Making me happy," you shrug your shoulders, but you surprisingly don't break the eye contact. "This was the best day ever."

"Yup, it was definitely the best day ever," she agrees and you fleetingly wonder if she's being honest because come on, she's a model… She's probably experienced things exponentially more fun than hanging out with you all day, but you don't question her, you don't want to. She looks up and tells you to do the same. "The stars are really pretty."

You don't look up though, you keep your eyes on her face… You can see the stars back in New York, you can see the stars anywhere in the world, but your time with Santana is limited and you plan on making the most out of it. "Super pretty," you whisper out and she focuses on you again.

She flashes you a shy smile and your eyes flicker down to her lips, you don't know if you're thinking straight, but the only thing you want to do right now is to kiss her. You were about to lean in when she abruptly looked away, stretching out her arms and yawning. You regretfully sigh, wishing you took the chance sooner, but then it's probably for the best…

You're just glad that she can't read your mind.

"It's past 1, we should both go to bed," she says through another yawn and you nod, remembering your meeting that will take place in a couple of hours. "Can I stay the night?"

"Of course," you instantly reply as if the answer was obvious, leading the way back into the suite. You don't realize how sleepy you are until you see the bed, you skip your systematized nightly ritual— deciding to just change your clothes and brush your teeth. You plop down onto the right side of the bed, expecting sleep to take over right way but it doesn't. Your heart starts to race because you become conscious of the circumstance that Santana will be sleeping beside you.

It seems _too_ intimate to share a bed with someone you just randomly met on a plane this morning, but you're not going to complain… Why should you?

You hear her switch off the lights in the bathroom and you dimwittedly fix your gaze on her, your heart misses a beat when you see her wearing one of those fluffy white bath robes and you hold your tongue to stop yourself from asking aloud if there was anything under. "I don't have anymore clean clothes in my suitcase, I was supposed to go home today," she chuckles and settles down beside you. "I'm wearing panties though so don't worry," it's supposed to be lighthearted, maybe even a joke, but the statement makes your thighs tremble. "You okay?"

"Fine," you croak out, turning away before you do something you'll regret. She turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. You were just about to fall asleep when the bed shifts and a lingering kiss is placed on your cheek, you feel like someone just rearranged your internal organs, muddling up your faculties.

"Good night, Quinn."

"Good night," you struggle out, silently praying that she can't hear the way your heart is thumping against your rib cage.

You fall asleep right after, oddly remembering Cinderella and how she woke up because of a true love's kiss.

Well, this is _your _own fairytale and in this story you fall asleep because of a kiss.

-.-.-.-.-

The phone rings, jolting you awake, you pick it up and like you expected— it was the wake-up call you asked for. You're still tired and groggy because of the day before, it's obvious you lack sleep and you're pretty sure you aren't prepared for this meeting, but you don't regret anything.

Yesterday was magical…

You look at Santana's side of the bed and a pang of pain shoots through you when you see that it's empty. Her luggage was nowhere to be found, the bathroom and balcony were both empty— she's gone.

You feel tears prick at your eyes and you feel like a moron because you know you shouldn't feel this way… You don't even _really_ know her. Think about it, you've known her for like a day— her departure shouldn't merit tears.

But it does.

It feels like your world stopped rotating and nothing makes sense anymore. You grit your teeth because everything just seems so hopeless— you don't have her number, you don't have any way to contact her. Your phone alarms, notifying you that you should be on the way to the meeting already… You're still in your pajamas though, blankly staring at the ceiling, praying that you're still asleep and this was just some nightmare.

The gadget rings again and you groan before getting up and going to the bathroom to finally take a shower. You're sure you're going to be late by now, but it doesn't matter… You were just about to brush your teeth when a small paper tacked on the mirror catches your eye.

_Good morning!_

_I wanted to make sure you'd see this so I placed it here. :P I got a call and turns out I need to work today… I'll be back_ _this afternoon though, I promise! I'll see you then, have a good day._

_x Santana_

You're a dumbass… For someone with a superior IQ, you're really stupid sometimes. You rush to get ready, feeling foolish because of the earlier ordeal. It's a good thing that no one saw how pitiful you were… You still feel embarrassed though, you can't believe you _almost_ cried over nothing.

You roll your eyes at yourself, hurriedly picking up your work bag and sprinting out of the room. You're glad your meeting was taking place in one of the function rooms of the hotel, which means there's virtually no travel time. You're 20 minutes late, but you're not the last one there and that makes you feel a little better.

You try your best to focus solely on the meeting, but your mind declines your plea. It's too busy processing the reality that you almost broke down because of some girl you barely know.

_What's going on with you, Fabray?_

-.-.-.-.-

You make it through the meeting, you did fine. Well, you could've done a lot better, but you're at least _sure _you won't get fired and that's good enough. You're so damn tired, you just want to nap for a bit, but you see Santana sitting outside your hotel room and you immediately feel more alive. "There you are, how was the meeting?" She stands up and grins at you, you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You're too giddy for your own good, the smile on your face says it all. "Eh, it was okay… How was— _work_?"

"Ugh," she groans and you use your keycard to open the door to your room. You both walk in and she carelessly drops her bags onto the floor and falls face first onto your housekeeping-fixed bed, you seriously think everything she does is endearing. "It's supposed to be my day off," Santana complains and you sit on the chair, listening to her rant. "I just got back, I'm not supposed to be working," she sounds like an exhausted kid, but you don't mind at all… You think it's absolutely adorable. "But some model backed out and my manager basically begged me… You don't know how hard it was for me to leave you this morning."

Her last sentence caused a huge smile to stretch across your face and you're delighted that she can't see you right now. "You're here now so it's fine," you say in a calm tone, successfully hiding the way you feel. "You should sleep first…"

"What's up with you and telling me to sleep?" She sits up and gives you an amused expression. "I think I'm more interesting when I'm awake," she smirks and you avert your eyes away bashfully but you nod. "Oh," she says like she just remembered something before getting out of bed, picking up her handbag and rummaging through it. "I got you something."

"What is—" She produces a small square with a black heart, it was one of those temporary tattoos. "I was asking one of my friends for a good tattoo parlor, you know just in case, then I realized I kinda don't want you to permanently mark your body. I mean, it's still your choice, but like I don't know—" She stammers and you're not used to seeing her so timid so you decide to interject.

You take it from her and study it, engraving the image onto your memory. "Thanks, Santana."

"No worries, I was picking between that and the Batman logo," she chuckles and you're actually really happy she went with the heart despite your love for superheroes.

"Well, I do adore the Dark Knight, but this is absolutely perfect," you beam at her and she smiles back before taking the heart back and walking to the bathroom.

"Come on, let's get you tatted," you follow suit and you watch as she wets one of the hand towels and peels off the plastic from the tattoo. "You ready? I hear this shit hurts like a bitch."

You laugh and she winks. "Where are you going to put it?" She uses her free hand to grab your left one, turning it over and exposing the inside of your wrist.

"I want to put it _here_," you nod, urging her to continue. She carefully presses the square onto your skin before rubbing the wet cloth over it, her tongue pokes out of the side of her mouth in concentration and the butterflies show up again. It's such a trivial task and yet she's so absorbed by it, it makes you feel special, it makes you feel like she really cares about you.

She nervously peels off the damp paper and you both let out a sigh of relief when you see that the heart under was unscathed, she brings your wrist near her lips and begins to blow on the tattoo. Your eyes connect and you feel like you're drowning because everything is just so intense. She presses a light kiss onto the dry ink after she's done blowing and your legs turn into jelly, you even had to grip the edge of the sink with your right hand to keep yourself steady. "Thanks," you breathe out and she makes a _'don't worry about it'_ face before heading back to the room.

You check yourself in the mirror, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm yourself down. You eventually emerge and she offers you her phone. "Almost there, Fabray."

[X]Get Drunk  
[X]Steal Something  
[X]Get a Tattoo  
[X]Take Drugs  
[ ]Have a One Night Stand

The initial elation you feel after reading the almost-finished list dissipates soon after it appears. You don't want to have a one night stand with anyone, you just want to make the most out of your time left with Santana… You give her back the phone and walk to the bed, your eyes inconspicuously flitting from the tattoo on your wrist to Santana. "I don't want to do the last thing," you say decidedly. "Four out of five is pretty good," you shrug before checking the time on your wristwatch. "And it's getting late."

You have a flight back to New York bright and early tomorrow, and you don't think it would be a smart move to go out tonight and look for someone who is willing to have no-strings-attached sex with you. You probably won't even find anyone… "Okay, do you want me to go?"

"No," you scramble out, shaking your head. "Well, you can if you want to, but I don't want you to," you tell her boldly, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. "We can go out for dinner or something."

"I have a better idea," she smirks out, digging through her bag for the Ziploc of joints from the night before. "Are you hungry?" You nod and she grins. "Then get ready for the _best_ meal of your life, Fabray."

-.-.-.-.-

You smoke two joints because Santana said she wants you to get really baked… You're not sure what she meant exactly, but you now feel like a pillow and you're all giggly. And Santana— _Santana_ is an angel on the phone, ordering room service for the both of you.

You're excited to eat.

Like really, really excited to eat.

Your stomach is empty because you skipped breakfast and you weren't into the food they served in the meeting a while ago.

So you're hungry.

Like really, really hungry.

You overhear some of the things that Santana orders and you feel your mouth water in anticipation. Santana hangs up and joins you on top of the bed, flashing you her perfect smile. "I don't think it's healthy to be this excited for fries."

You chuckle and she gets comfortable beside you, lying on her side so she can see you clearly. "What did you order?"

"_Everything_," she exaggerates and it makes you laugh out loud. "I'm serious," she says through a smile and you nod amusedly. "What time is your flight tomorrow?"

"I need to be at the airport by 8AM," you try to keep the sadness out of your voice, but you're not entirely successful. "I thought you left me this morning," you divulge without thinking. "I woke up and you weren't beside me anymore and I was so sure you were gone for good."

"I guess I should've placed more notes then," she jokes and you curve your lips into a smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be the one to leave, Quinn," she whispers out before shifting her body so she was lying on her back and staring at the ceiling.

A blanket of silence is thrown over the both of you and you try your best to decode what Santana just said. But the weed is messing with your mental capacity and you're sure it would be easier to sort out all 154 of Shakespeare's sonnets. You don't know how much time has elapsed since you last spoke but you finally find your voice again. "San—"

The doorbell untimely rings, cutting you off and re-scattering your thoughts. She jumps off the bed and opens the door, allowing the attendant to roll in the trolley of food. You space out, blankly staring at the whole exchange. Santana tips him and the boy finally leaves, the closing sound of the door knocks you out of your trance.

You frustratedly rub at your eyes, trying to recover the words you wanted to say to her. Your brain won't cooperate though and your stomach is complaining incessantly so you drag yourself to sit by the dining table, which was covered in plates of various dishes. The amount of food is crazy and you don't know where to start so you just dive in, stuffing a slice of pizza into your mouth. You want to moan, you really do— food has never tasted _this _good before. "Good?"

You bob your head up and down excitedly, the different flavors making your taste buds explode. You're pretty sure that your current state has something to do with the_ 'munchies'_ Santana was telling you about a while ago. "This is the best pizza ever," you drop the crust and reach for a plate of pasta, enthusiastically twirling a fork into the heap that was dripping in red sauce. You slurp up a noodle and Santana giggles before running a thumb over your lip, the fork accidentally falls from your hand and she pulls away.

"I'm _so_—"

"Try this," your apology dies on your lips when she brings a finger covered in frosting to your mouth. You daringly suck off the cream and Santana beams at you. "Good?" You nod again because for the nth time, Santana Lopez rendered you speechless.

-.-.-.-.-

It's been about 2 hours since your meal and you napped for a while, but you're up now and relieved to see that Santana was still around. "I'm still so full," you place your palms over your finally-flat tummy, watching Santana from the bed. She's standing in front of the mirror, checking out all of the angles of her reflection. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to estimate how many pounds I need to work off in the gym tomorrow," she shrugs nonchalantly and you raise an eyebrow at her. "Come on, I ate like a beast a while ago, Quinn," she chuckles before walking over to you and collapsing face first onto the bedspread.

"Your body is perfect," you spill out, the bravery coming from the fact that her eyes weren't on you. "I mean, look at you… _You're perfect_."

"I'm not perfect, Quinn," she sits up and wraps her arms around herself. "I'm so _so _far from perfect."

"What?" Your head isn't as fuzzy anymore and you can barely feel the effects of the marijuana so you're sure you're being reasonable right now. "But you _are_— you're nice, you're funny, you're beautiful, you're just amazing," the compliments come out like puke— unstoppable and mortifying.

"Shh," she shushes you, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Quinn, don't."

"You are," you insist and she snaps her head towards you, you feel your breath hitch but you don't avert your eyes elsewhere. "I admit that I don't know what this is, but I just know that I really, _really _like spending time with you and I don't want to go back to New York without—"

She censors you with a hard kiss— in an instant, her soft plump lips were covering yours. The kiss is _infinitely_ better than the one you've been imagining since you first set eyes on her… She pushes down on both of your shoulders, making your back collide with the bed under you. You can hardly breathe— the kiss is so wet, so rough, and just so… _Santana._

You're drowning in her again.

You know this is a ploy to get you to stop talking about the serious things, but you can't really discredit the strategy.

It's working perfectly…

Who cares about _talking_ about feelings when Santana's _giving_ you feelings?

Your hands twitch at your sides— you want to touch her, you want to leave your fingerprints all over her but you're too afraid to move. You're scared you might do something wrong… "Just relax," she blindly guides one of your hands onto her body and you're now sure that she can read your mind (at least to a certain extent). You slip your fingers under her shirt, feeling her tight abs flutter under your touch. She removes your glasses and safely places them on the nearer bedside table.

She kisses you again and your eyes roll backwards when her tongue first comes in contact with your teeth, and then your own tongue soon after. You're trying to keep up with the kiss, _you really are_, but it's getting too hot. Everything is getting too hot…

You feel like you're on fire— your skin is burning with lust.

You break the kiss, panting against her cheek to revive your struggling lungs. Her hand cups your clothed center and your current predicament finally dawns on you. _You're about to have sex with Santana… _Your eyes crack open and you use all your physical strength and emotional willpower to push her off of you. She lands on her ass, almost falling off the bed, staring at you with confused darkened eyes. "I don't want to do this," a hurt look flashes on her face so you quickly qualify the statement. "I mean, I want to do this— I want you, but not like _this_. I don't want to have a one-night stand with you, Santana… I want us to—"

She pounces on you, swallowing your surprised gasp with a heated kiss. You want to shake her off, you really do, but it feels so good. _She feels so good… _She tears off your top, tugging it over your head before getting rid of your bra. You sink your teeth into your lower lip when she squeezes your breasts, toying with your stiff nipples. You arch your back, offering more of yourself to her. She kisses you again and you're so disoriented by now— completely lost in everything that was Santana.

This is wrong. So terribly wrong.

But you can't stop, you don't want to stop.

"Wait—" you crow out when she begins to work on your zipper. This was your last-ditch effort to be logical and stop things from going _too_ far… Santana pulls away, her brown eyes carefully studying your face. "Santana, I—"

"You're gonna ruin things," she grits her teeth and looks at you with pleading eyes. "Don't say anything… Shut up, stop thinking and just feel, Quinn," she unbuttons your pants and tugs them off, leaving you in nothing but your Batgirl panties. You feel the tips of your ears and your cheeks turn scarlet, but Santana doesn't let you cover yourself. "How can you be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?"

You shake your head because you're sure you aren't either of those things… _She's_ all of that and more. "We really shouldn't—"

"Why not?" She presses her nose onto your underwear and your mouth drops open and dries up— a part of you is self-conscious, but the arousal pooling in the area Santana is nuzzling won't let you focus on being embarrassed. "Do you _really_ want me to stop?" She wetly kisses the inside of your left thigh and you clamp your jaw tight. "You don't seem like you do," she kisses your drenched panties before she decides to trace the printed comic font with her tongue. You bury your fingernails into the mattress, squirming to feel more. "Quinn," she calls out and you stare at her through half-lidded eyes. "Tell me you want this."

You do want this, but you also want so much more than this…

"I want this—_ I want you_," you utter out without missing a beat though and she yanks off your underwear, she wastes no more time and begins to suck on your wet folds. You know you're already like seconds away from coming.._. Gah._ You feel one of her fingers circle your entrance and you blindly grab her wrist before she can push in, you look her in the eye— feeling your heart in your throat. "I want this, but you should know that this isn't some one-night stand… This is so much more than that," you don't let go of her, not until two of her long fingers are knuckle-deep inside you, not until your vision blurs and your hips start to meet her feral prodding. "San, oh _fu_—"

You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening— each one of her thrusts, bringing you closer and closer to release. She repeatedly hits _your _spot, expertly curving her fingers at the right time. You feel a spasm shake through your core when she encompasses your clit with her full lips and begins to suck on it. It's too much— you feel like you're flying, like you're on fire, like you're dreaming— actually, you don't know what you're feeling.

It's a new experience entirely.

You force yourself to keep your eyes open, peering at Santana's head between your legs. Everything just feels so electric— the way her fingers slide in and out of your, the way her tongue outlines your clit, the way she rasps out sweet nothings against your sex.

Your whole body becomes rigid after she sends you over the edge— a scream escaping your lips. You're in free fall, hurtling towards the unknown and even beyond. Her fingers and tongue continue to move, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible. Molten heat floods out, coating her chin with _you_. You're not a virgin, but you can't even begin to describe what just occurred on this bed— you never knew sex could feel like _that_. Your chest is irregularly heaving and Santana has yet to emerge, you tremble whenever you feel her brush her tongue over the fresh wetness coating your skin.

That wasn't supposed to happen… You weren't supposed to have sex.

"Looks like you were able to finish the list," she mumbles out after pressing her lips onto your still-thrumming center. You're desperately trying to regulate your breathing, but Santana's now eye-level with you again and she's leaning in to capture your lips for yet another mind-numbing kiss. You moan when you taste yourself on her tongue.

You don't really know what you're doing now, but you want to make her feel good so you take control of the situation— flipping her over so you were on top. "I told you, this isn't a one-night stand," you unwaveringly state and she hums something out, looking doubtful. "Trust me, it isn't," you leisurely shed off her clothes, taking time to memorize every single inch of her flawless caramel skin. "I care about you," you tell her sincerely, trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone.

"You shouldn't," she argues and you nip at her throat as a form of defiance. She groans, bucking her hips upward to get some friction— her swollen sex leaving a streak of her juices on your thigh. "Quinn, you—"

"Just shut up and feel," you growl out, repeating her earlier sentiments. She submits to you, giving you complete power over her body. You're certain you're not as experienced as her or probably even any of her previous lovers, but you have an objective— you want her to know everything you can't express in words.

So you spell it out with every swipe of your tongue, every stroke of your thumb, every thrust of your fingers.

This is your first intimate night with Santana and even if you're vehemently trying to ignore it— there's a deafening voice in the back of your head, telling you that it's also your last. So you make it count… You make her scream your name, and for a few hours, you become someone else— someone confident…

Someone that wasn't being held back by a string.

She falls asleep in your arms after round three, you're both equally exhausted and sore, but your mind won't desist from bombarding you with questions you can't possibly answer alone.

In the span of two days— you got drunk, you got a _'tattoo'_, you took drugs (twice) and you had sex with a stranger.

_Who are you?_

-.-.-.-.-

You have no idea how to feel when you wake up... Everything comes crashing back and you're so goddamn lost.

You see nothing but raven-colored hair, you smell nothing but heady perfume, you hear nothing but the sound of even breathing— _you feel nothing but Santana_. It's all just her and you're pretty sure that it's driving you towards the brink of insanity. Your eyelids fluttered open less than five minutes ago, but a part of you is already convinced that you're dreaming again...

You remember the feeling of waking up to an empty bed yesterday. It was so easy for you to comprehend how you felt— sadness is an emotion that's easily graspable but _this_... This is something you cannot put into words in spite of your wide vocabulary.

_She's still here, she didn't leave._

Your heart is repeatedly slamming itself against your ribs and you're convinced the force will be enough to rouse Santana awake. Her face is _so_ close to yours, close enough for your skin to feel the warm puffs of air that escape her lips, close enough for her sweet-scented breath to make you feel drunk.

Your right arm is completely numb by now because it's been bearing the weight of her body for hours, but the sensation of pins and needles oddly makes you want to smile. You know the prickling feeling _should_ bother you to an extent, but it's a tangible reminder of what happened between you and Santana so there's no way you can find it even mildly annoying.

You try your best to blink the sleepiness away from your eyes, you want to retain as much as possible— you want to memorize in detail how Santana's face looks like under the soft sunlight that was drifting through the ajar roman blinds.

You're losing track of yourself and your surroundings again, but it's just impossible for you to remain lucid when your eyes are taking in how beautiful she is. You desperately want to close the gap between your lips, you want to be greedy and re-submerge yourself in the taste of her intoxicating kisses, but she's _too_ perfect when she sleeps— you're simply incapable of disturbing her.

You wonder how many people have seen Santana in this state... She looks so peaceful right now, so vulnerable— as if all her mysterious walls somehow toppled over, leaving nothing but unadulterated perfection in its wake. You glance at the nearby digital clock, calculating the time you have left with the angel clinging to your body.

You're not ready to go yet, you're not ready to lose her. You selfishly want to have her in your life forever so the idea of your departure for New York in a few hours is aggressively gnawing at your insides. It doesn't make any sense... A few days ago, you didn't even know she existed and now you practically need her— now, she's a part of you.

Your idea of "love" was so linear before this business trip— you meet someone, you date, you get engaged, you get married and somewhere along the way you _'fall in love'._ Santana managed to take that one-track route and knot it up into something irresolvable in the span of three days...

You're falling so fast that it's beyond the bounds of possibility for something to catch you before you smash into the ground. Life isn't supposed to work this way... All the events that preceded this moment are inscrutable— you're living out a fantasy and you're not ready to plummet back into the real world.

You're not ready to let go.

"Stop looking at me like that," Santana mumbles out and your eyes widen because you were positive that she was still fast asleep. You separate your lips to defend yourself, but her eyes slowly open and the rich brown color renders you mute. "Hi."

"Good morning," you reply in a gentler tone before biting your inner cheek to make sure that you're really awake. It still astounds you how godlike Santana is… Her entire physiognomy is more or less perfect.

"How long have you been staring at me?" She asks in an amused, semi-teasing tone and you cough involuntarily.

"_Uhh_— I wasn't, no I—" You stammer like an uneducated moron, pulling away from her because the close proximity wasn't helping with your coherency at all. She doesn't let you get too far though, she tenderly holds the back of your neck and you feel goosebumps erupt across your skin. The tiny hairs on your nape are all standing attentively and you don't understand how she can overwhelm your body without even exerting any effort.

"It's okay, I don't mind," she slides her nose closer to yours before closing the gap between your lips. It's the softest kiss you've ever felt, her lips are basically just ghosting your own and it sparks something inside you— your feral craving for everything Santana-related. You suddenly shove her backwards, significantly increasing the forcefulness of the lip lock. You hover over her bare body, delving your tongue deep into her mouth. "What time do you have to leave for the airport?" She asks breathlessly when you begin to suck on her pulse point, tasting her skin again.

"About 2 hours," you mutter between nips to her throat. "You're so beautiful, Santana," you profess, burying your face into the crevice of her neck. You're so conflicted— you're conscious of how limited your time left with the Latina is, but you don't know what to do. You don't know if you two should talk, kiss, make love, argue... _You need more time. _

"Have you seen yourself?" Santana retorts in her signature raspy tone and it just adds fuel to the fire burning in your abdomen. "2 hours is a lot of t-_time_," she stumbles over the last word because you decided to lower your mouth and take in one of her perky nipples into your mouth.

"Talk to me," you request and one of her eyebrows quirks up, silently questioning you. "I want to make the most out of our time left together so… _Talk to me_." You repeat persistently before snaking one of your hands down to her temperate core.

"O-okay," she take in a deep breath, tightly gripping the sheets of the hotel bed with both of her hands. "Remember when I asked you how old you were on the plane?" You nod while swirling your tongue around the nub in between your thin lips. "I already knew how old you were… I actually sat beside you in the waiting lounge and I overheard you telling the little kid you were with," you release her breast with a pop and gaze at her curiously. "After your chicken question, I knew I had to be the one to start the conversation," she continues with a smirk. "You couldn't even look in my direction, Quinn."

"Have you seen yourself?" You cheekily mimic her earlier statement. "I don't think you can blame me…" She cups your cheek and starts to caress it with her thumb. "I can't even think straight when you're around."

"After everything that happened, it's safe to say that you have the same effect on me," she gestures for you to bring your face closer to hers. "Your eyes are evil…" She states, staring into them intently. "You probably don't remember, but I was also the one who gave you back your phone in JFK," she says casually and your eyes widen at the information. "That's when I first saw these hazel charmers… I already wanted to strike up a conversation then, but your eyes couldn't even meet mine."

"That was you?" You're faintly embarrassed because of your evidently dreadful social skills, but you don't let the shame linger— you're too busy thinking about how abnormal it is to encounter a random person numerous times in such a hectic airport on such a busy day. And to top it all off, Santana sat beside you on the plane...

Again, life isn't supposed to work this way.

"Yeah, it's crazy how I kept running into you that day, huh? It's like fate wanted all of this to happen…" She shrugs and pecks your lips lightly. "Like we were always destined to cross paths."

"Cross paths?" You frown because you don't like how the phrase sounds— you don't want to just _'cross paths'_ with Santana. "You make it sound like we're intersecting lines…"

"What do you mean?"

"Intersecting lines only cross each other at one point, which means they meet once then never again."

"Quinn…"

Your frown deepens because you detest her tone right now, its remorsefulness is making you incredibly anxious and it feels like she's about to confirm all of your fears. "I don't want us to be intersecting lines," you say in a contentious voice, filling the excruciating silence that ensued.

"It's fucking unfair how adorable you are," she shuts her eyelids and kisses you again. All the lust you felt earlier was rapidly dissipating— your chest was starting to feel intolerably heavy because of the somber look on Santana's face. " You're so amazing, Quinn… I'm so proud of you for getting through that list."

"Stop it," you defiantly shake your head, feebly hauling yourself away from her. "I don't want to hear this," you sit up, drawing the thick comforter closer to your naked skin. "Please don't."

"But—"

"You're saying goodbye," you cut her off purposefully, averting your dreary eyes to the ceiling. "And I don't want to hear it so…_ Stop_."

"You're leaving later… When do you want me to say it?" She challengingly questions, moderately narrowing her eyes.

"_Never_," you answer right away, locking your stare onto her face. "It doesn't have to be a goodbye… I still don't understand what all of this is but—_ I don't want a goodbye_," you declare determinedly. "I know I'm going back to New York, but we can figure something out… You said it yourself— fate wanted us to meet."

"I'm not that kind of girl, Quinn…" Santana whispers out and the declaration feels like a kick to your gut. You're nauseous and your insides are churning because of the overpowering uncertainty. "I can't give you what you're asking for."

"I'm not asking for much…" You murmur in response, stinging tears forming in your eyes. You hate yourself for appearing so weak, but you just can't help it. Santana's basically ripping you apart using simple words and you don't know how to protect yourself— you're utterly defenseless. "I just need to know that you're still going to be in my life after I leave LA."

"Remember when I said you were a balloon? If I stay in your life, I'll be holding you back— I'll become the string... I don't deserve you."

"What? No, you can be a balloon too!" You're beyond frustrated by now, this conversation is causing you way too much angst and you feel like you're about to combust. You get out of the bed, in quest of clean clothes and space to breathe. You slip on a fitted, gray hoodie and a clean pair of undies, shielding your skin as a consolation for the fact that you can't shield you heart.

"I can't be a balloon, Quinn," she replies hard-headedly, making you groan in severe annoyance and exasperation. Up to now, you still don't have the slightest clue on how Santana's brain works and it just adds to your yearning to keep her in your life for as long as possible. You want to learn _everything_ about Santana, you want to climb over all the barriers that she built and understand even the deepest crevices of her mind.

She straightens up and holds a pillow against her chest, deliberately covering her nude self. "And why not?" You snap, tired of all the enigmatic pessimism and counterstatements.

"I'm afraid of flying, remember?" You slump your shoulders in defeat— you're fighting a losing battle and you know it… Based on experience, you already know that it's useless to argue with Santana about anything. "One day you're going to find someone who rightfully deserves you, someone who isn't as damaged as I am."

"I want you though," you feel moisture on your cheeks and you turn around to hide your tears. "This is so fucked up," you're pretty sure this is the first time you ever cursed in front of her, but you literally don't know how else to express yourself anymore. "Was this all just some sick game to you?"

"Don't you dare say that," she spits back, an upset look flashes across her profile and guilt immediately consumes you. "I would never play with you, Quinn… I told you at the very start what this was, this whole thing was about me helping you get rid of your string and actually live your life."

"Enough with the stupid metaphors!" You crumble to the floor, holding your temples with both your hands. "Let's start talking in simple English— Santana, I want you. I want to take you on dates, I want to hold your hand, I want to have the right to kiss you whenever I want, I want the chance to truly fall in love with you."

"I'm so sorry, Quinn." She crawls out of the bed and begins to pick up her discarded clothes from the floor. "I can't give you that," she kneels down in front of you and you try to shake her hand on your chin off, but she persistently makes you look her in the eye. "I wish I could though."

"And I wish I could hate you," a fresh wave of tears roll down your cheeks and she wipes them away before peppering kisses all over your face. She presses her forehead onto yours and you miserably wrap your arms around her, hugging her as tight as you can.

-.-.-.-.-

"I have this feeling that I'm a closet masochist or something..." You force out a chuckle, glancing at the closest entryway of the airport. "I don't understand why I said it was fine for you to come along," you swallow back the urge to cry, tightly clasping the plastic handle of your luggage.

"We started this together, we should at least end it together," Santana replies unfazed, smiling at you in a manner that made you want to burst into tears even more. "I don't want us to part ways on bad terms..."

"Well, I don't want us to part ways at all," you retort in a rather immature tone before sighing heavily. "This feels so wrong..."

"Do you regret getting in that taxi with me?" You're used to it by now— the way Santana essentially snubs whatever you say and rebuts it with a random question or remark. And even if the deed is immensely infuriating, you'll miss it because you're bound to miss every single thing that's connected to the girl in front of you. _  
_

"Why would I regret making the best choice of my life?" You answer back, paying no attention to how sappy and lovesick you sound. "I guess it's time for that goodbye now," you breathe out unwillingly and she nods her head. "Despite the absurdity of this whole experience, I want you to know that I appreciate everything you did for me... Thank you, Santana."

"I didn't do much, it was mostly you, you're the one who came up and finished off the list," she shrugs, shoving her hands into her front pockets. "I was just there to cheer you on and make you aware of what you're capable of," you shake your head in mystification towards her modesty. "I'm never going to forget you, Quinn. You're so amazing and—"

"I didn't finish the list!" You suddenly reveal, looking for a way to extend your time with Santana and interfere with the unwanted farewell. "_The balloon_— I didn't steal it, I paid for it," you elucidate and both of her eyebrows rise. "I didn't finish—"

"Don't worry you stole something much more valuable than a helium balloon," you crumple up your face, dumbfounded by her statement and the confidence of her voice. She reaches for your left hand and flips it over, revealing the heart-shaped impression on your wrist. You let your eyes droop close, absorbing the heaviness of the minuscule act— _you have her heart and she has yours_. "You're going to be late for your flight..."

"Promise me that you'll look around whenever you're on a plane or an airport, I might just be there— fate is rooting for us, right?"

"Okay, I promise," she smiles softly and you unhesitatingly let go of your bag, grab her waist and kiss her with enough passion to convey all the things that are impossible to verbalize. You soak up as much of her as you can, noiselessly preparing yourself for the inevitable blandness that will accompany losing Santana. "You need to go home, Quinn," she whispers out when you break away from each other, salty tears cascading down her tanned and well-defined cheeks.

"One day, I swear I'll find you and get rid of your string," you give her one more loving kiss before picking up your fallen suitcase. "Until that day comes, I'll keep _this_ safe," you raise up the temporary ink mark, pressing your lips onto the stick-on tattoo. "Oh and take care of mine too, alright?" You don't stay any longer, turning away from her and walking through the airport's doors. You take out your phone and type out a duplicate of the legendary list, adding another bullet at the very bottom.

[X]Get Drunk  
[X]Steal Something  
[X]Get a Tattoo  
[X]Take Drugs  
[X]Have a One Night Stand  
[ ] Santana

_Despite all logic and reason— you're inadvertently in love with a stranger. _

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**AN:** There will be another instalment to this universe but I think I'll give it another name so it won't be "HB&ST part 2". Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)

_You know that I wrote this for you, right? _


	2. Lullabies

******Master AN: **I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

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**Lullabies** [T]

**Summary: **QW13 DAY02— Santana is the daughter of Death but everyone seems to have her confused for a common serial killer… Whatever, she's only trying to keep the love of her "life" safe from stupid boys.

**AN: **If religion is a sensitive topic for you— SKIP THIS.

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I cringe while reading the headlines of the local newspaper.

_Lima, OH Serial Killer Strikes Again— 17-yo McKinley High Star Swimmer Found Dead._

It sucks for Sam Evans… The photo of him they printed on the front-page is damn unflattering— his lips are huge.

Anyway, I guess killing _all_ of the guys that inappropriately interact with my beloved_ 'best friend'_ is a little overdramatic on my part, but can you _really_ blame me? I can't let anyone get close enough to hurt the angel—_ my angel_.

I should probably start off by introducing myself, I'm Santana Lopez, the prized daughter of Mr. Death himself and the sole heir to the Underworld throne. Well, let's backtrack a bit, I'm not really in love with an "_angel_" per se cause I'm virtually "pure evil" so my rights to enter Heaven are pretty much nonexistent.

Meaning, it's hard for me to get a divine girlfriend. Like really, really hard. Scared of the old-school father with a rusty shotgun? Psh, imagine being interviewed by _THE_ Creator when it's time to _'meet the parents'_— so yeah, rule #1: don't look at angels.

Pfft, _whatever._ It's not like I legitimately care, the girl I'm into is way_, way_ more attractive than _any_ holy being… Her name is Quinn Fabray, she's 100% human and 100% beautiful.

She's flawless, gorgeous, breathtaking, stunning, ravishing_— I can keep going…_

Ugh.

I first laid eyes on her when my dad decided I was mature enough (twelve years old) to visit the Overworld and collect my first real soul. The target at the time was Quinn's 90-something, ill grandfather… Easy peasy, huh? _Fuck, no. _I mean, I'm a flawless soul swiper (it's in the blood), but it was basically impossible for me _not_ to screw my first job up.

Wait, first off, thrash every idea you've ever possessed regarding the _only_ capital-D that matters.

No, Death isn't a skeleton walking around with a scythe_—_ my dad is a bit more macho than that, just saying. No, Death isn't some sort of spirit guide that leads you to Heaven. No, Death isn't some dude feeding people poison from the tip of a sword (no words for this one, really).

Death is the result of the combined efforts of soul swipers (demons if you wish) and almighty fate.

I personally agree that no human language can fully explain what "Death" is, but I can sure as _home_ make it more comprehensible. First, accept the fact that Death has countless meanings and interpretations (most are incorrect though).

There are heaps of Hollywood stuff that _try_ to accurately illustrate Death— Final Destination, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, etc.

But again, fuck whatever is in your head. Just think about Monsters Inc. (yes, the Pixar movie), and the stupid factory with moving doors.

It's exactly like that… Death is a process more than anything else— a process caught in the middle of the relentless cycle of creation and destruction.

Death is like a career choice for us 'swipers', another part of the production line, it's one way to make ends meet in the Underworld.

And it's also the lullaby we perform to draw souls into the deepest form of slumber.

There's this establishment in the heart of Hell with thousands of working swipers and thousands of swirly purple portals connected to the Overworld. In this facility, my father is HDIC… It's where we collect and process the souls, which we ultimately send up a direct chute to Heaven.

None of the souls stay in Hell… What's the use of having something unbreakable stay in a world of destruction?

Anyway, back to the main story… So my dad took me through one of the Death portals and we ended up in the Fabray lot, I clearly remember seeing the geezer napping through a window. My dad began to explain the procedure in detail, but I was too impatient and cocky for my own good. I waved him off, stalking through the backyard and stealthily entering the house.

I was halfway up the stairs when _she _showed up…

Quinn stood at the top of the steps, wearing an outer space-themed onesie, studying me through heavy eyelids. The silver cross pendant around her neck wasn't nearly strong enough to make me look away from her hazel eyes…

My feet were immediately anchored to the floor, all of my bones and muscles rendered frozen. I open my mouth to smooth talk my way out of the situation but she beat me to it and spoke first, exposing my ears to liquid sex for the first time (keeping it real). "Nighty night, buddy," she mumbles out still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes and walking back to the pink room down the hall.

I stayed put, waiting for my heart to tire itself out and stop banging against my ribs. _Who is she? _I don't recall how long it took for my dad to find me, but he was pissed when he did… Yelling and cursing at me for screwing up such a simple assignment.

I wasn't listening to him though, my brain dripping with thoughts about the blonde I saw earlier.

That was the day of my first and last failure as a soul swiper.

That was also the day I fell in love with Lucy Quinn Fabray…

-.-.-.-.-

I wasn't allowed to move to the Overworld till I turned sixteen, it took _a lot_ of begging and soul swiping to get my dad to even consider the idea. The three consecutive years as "Top Swiper" at _Demon Corp._ tremendously helped my case though… In the end, I was permitted to move to Lima as long as I agreed to a couple of trivial things such as immediately appearing in the Underworld if I'm summoned, attending my important demon lectures, you know shit like that.

Oh, I kinda also agreed to never see Quinn again and to allow my dad to cut her lifeline in half if she doesn't willingly consent to marry me when I turn 20.

No biggie.

_That_ doesn't matter anyway because I'm only 18 and a half… There's no need to worry, I have like more than a year left to make her _truly_ fall in love with me. I got the friendship part down…

And believe me, she _will_ fall in love with me because come on, we're half-soulmates. That empty gap where my soul _should_ be? That's where hers fits perfectly… (call it cheesy if you want to but I prefer the term charming)

The part I dislike the most about my deal with the devil is the fact that Quinn can't find out about any of it. I mean, yeah, it does makes things harder for me, but I just really don't like the idea of keeping important things from her.

I'm irrevocably in love with her, but she's also been my best friend for the past two years… It's difficult to keep secrets from the most valuable person in your eyes.

Still, I'm partly glad that she can't find out… I don't want Quinn to marry me just because of some treacherously evil contract, I want her to marry me because she figured out that we're undeniably meant for each for other.

We're perfect for each other.

_We really are… _I just need her to realize it before it's too late.

"Hey, S," Quinn snaps her ivory fingers in front of my face, knocking me out of my nostalgic daze and bringing me back to McKinley's packed and noisy cafeteria. I crease my brow at the blonde beside me and she playfully rolls her eyes, exaggeratedly sighing right after. "You weren't listening to me, huh?" I open my mouth to lie, but it's stupid for me to even try lying to Quinn so I snap it back shut. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," I let out a timely yawn, overemphasizing it just a bit and Quinn's frown deepens. I had to swipe souls for Demon Corp. last night and I got home _right_ before I had to start getting ready for school… Ugh, the late shift sucks. "I'm fine."

"You know I hate it when you skip sleep," she tells me worriedly and I flash her a sincere smile, trying to wave off her concern. "I mean it, San… Well, it's Friday, you should crash in my place tonight so we can fix your body clock," she gives me a pointed look and I nod without giving it a second thought. _Why think? _"Plus, that way you can keep me safe from that serial killer everyone's talking about… This is so crazy, poor Sam."

"Yeah, poor Sam," I repeat, bringing my plastic cup of orange juice to my lips to hide my smirk. Guppy Lips would still be captain of the swim team if he kept his goggles to himself… It's not my fault I caught him flirting with Quinn before one of his meets.

Not at all.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her that there is no serial killer and that I didn't need to protect her from whatever it was that killed Sam because_ I_ would never dare to hurt her in the first place…

I choose to be a good best friend instead, letting her know that I would drop by Breadstix to get us takeout for dinner tonight.

-.-.-.-.-

A news report about the alleged Lima serial killer plays on the flatscreens that were hanging on the walls of Breadstix. I grimace, I never enjoyed it when people publicly paraded my work.

The overweight news anchor reads out the names of the poor 'victims', mourning-appropriate music softly playing in the background as the five surnames leisurely slid across the bottom of the monitor.

Hudson— Anderson— Abrams— Chang— Evans

A smile tugs on the corner of my lips as I vividly remember each one of their untimely demises. Good times, good times.

The lone thing that really connects all five of the supposed "murders" is the presence of a violently dark bruise on their chests, just above their heart's cavities.

Bottom line, the common cause of death is _me_.

The usual swiper only takes a soul that's ready to depart its body, we aren't the ones that induce death, that's not under the job description… We're just really there to harvest the crops after _fate_ finishes its job.

I'm different from the other phantoms/demons/devils though… I'm the only entity who was born in the land of destruction itself, which allows me to alter a few of the predetermined restrictions.

I'm no ordinary soul swiper, I'm the princess of Hell and I can basically kill whoever I want by simply punching them. It's not your average punch though— it's the great strike of death… Oh, by the way, there's no such thing as a_ 'kiss of death'_ because A) that's highly unhygienic for everyone involved, and B) _only_ Quinn will ever have access to my amazing lips.

The special strike is strong enough to immediately stop the human heart from pumping anymore blood and also to knock a soul right out of its reluctant carrier. Okay, maybe, some of the guys I killed were arguably too young and too faultless to die…

And maybe, it _is_ highly unfair that I resort to taking away helpless lives just to pacify my burning jealousy, but— come on, Quinn is involved.

My Quinn.

No one is allowed to get _too_ close to her. No one except me.

I'm extremely careful when it comes to my illegal/unethical business though, I can't risk getting caught or endangering Quinn in any way.

I put her in more than enough danger when I agreed to my father's almost-unreasonable conditions… The fact that I can't pause time stresses me out immensely so I really don't need problems regarding human laws or anything equally petty.

An employee holding a paper bag with the restaurant's logo hands me my order with a wide grin. "Here you go," she winks and I smile back, aware that she's probably just enamored by my eyes or one of my other unearthly features. "Come again real soon." I just chuckle at her useless flirting, walking out of Breadstix's doors and towards my parked car.

_Uh, no thanks. _

-.-.-.-.-

I shift the gear to neutral while waiting for a stoplight to flash green. Kurt Hummel passes, dressed in all black, absentmindedly walking across the pedestrian lane. He seems like a good kid and I feel bad for killing both his stepbrother and his secret boyfriend in the span of two weeks…

In my defense though, I didn't know Blaine was downright gay and Finn single-handedly earned what I gave him.

This whole serial killer thing actually started with fucking Hudson, it began right after the Homecoming football game ended… He just came up to Quinn and asked the blonde out on a date, one of his dopey, vomit-inspiring grins stretched across his giant face.

Long story short, he said too many unfit words to Quinn for my liking and that's when I first realized that I needed to step up my game… I needed to keep _everyone_ away from my personal angel.

I remember seeing him slip out of the teenage crowds in the victory party later that night, probably on his way to the bathroom or something… I just snuck up on him and wordlessly hit him square on the chest, making his heart go rigid in mere seconds.

I promised myself I wouldn't hastily kill anyone after that, but…

Blaine.

His death is the one I regret causing the most. Err, it was all just a big misunderstanding, alright? I was exhausted because of Underworld errands and I misheard him… I thought he said; "hey there, gorgeous" to Quinn when he in fact said; "oh god, nice shoes". I know they don't really sound alike, but I guess my mind likes to play tricks on me when I lack sleep.

So yeah, before Quinn could correct me… Blaine died, _err well_, I already killed him and I couldn't give him back his life.

_Oops. _

I drive away from the pedestrian lane, flooring the gas pedal to distance myself from the porcelain-colored boy, not even bothering to spare him another glance.

_Guilt is an emotion that knows no superiority._

-.-.-.-.-

"Q? I'm here!" I call out, pocketing my keys to the Fabray house while gripping the takeout bag using my free hand. As soon as I close the front door, Quinn emerges from the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone— she mouths out 'Brittany' and I nod.

I stroll deeper inside so I can set the dining table. I patiently wait for her call to end, I _accidentally _overhear fragments of the conversation, enough to infer that she's consoling the other Cheerio yet again…

I didn't know Brittany was wholeheartedly in love with Artie, okay?

The cripple should've just went for the blue-eyed blonde when the school year started… That way, he wouldn't be six feet under the ground right now. Oh well, at least he's not stuck on a wheel chair anymore, right? It's like some sort of philanthropy.

"_Eyo Quinn, can I give you a ride?" _

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, remembering the way Artie asked his foolish question in his infuriatingly sleazy voice, suggestively motioning to his lap.

Stupid little boy…

Of course I _had_ to kill him after _that_, it didn't matter that Quinn already ordered the hockey jocks to slushie Artie _everyday_ for the rest of his remaining high school life… He needed to be rightfully punished for even _thinking_ that he could talk to and disrespect Quinn the way that he did.

I do feel bad for Brittany, but he sorta deserved what happened to him… The guy's a douche, plain and simple. She could do better if you ask me.

_But then again, I don't really care. _

"Hey, sorry about that," Quinn walks into the dining room, her phone nowhere in sight. "Brittany just saw Milhouse on a Simpsons commercial and she remembered Artie," a chuckle escapes my lips and she lightly hits me on the arm. "It's not funny, she cries whenever she sees anything in glasses."

"Don't worry, she'll get over him eventually," I tell her in a reassuring tone, wolfing through a couple of bread sticks. When Quinn's eyes remained narrow, I put down the food and placed one of my hands over hers. "I promise, she'll be okay… It's just a difficult time for the whole town right now, but everyone will be okay."

"I just don't understand how someone can be so evil… Things like this don't happen in places like Lima," she worries her lip between her teeth, looking too distraught for my liking.

"Maybe the killer isn't doing it to be evil, maybe they're doing it for a good reason," I try to sound as indifferent as possible, but Quinn still curiously quirks an eyebrow at me. "There are things in Lima that are worth killing for, believe me."

She gapes back incredulously, obviously doubtful. "Like?"

"You," I bar my teeth, smiling at her darkly. "I mean, if that serial killer came in here _right now_, I wouldn't even think before killing him or _her_… The only thing on my mind would be your safety."

I intently watch as a light shade of scarlet spreads across her cheeks, to the tips of her ears and all the way down to her throat and neck. I love making Quinn blush… "You're such a dork," she coughs out a chuckle and I wink back, unfazed. "Come on, let's eat already, the food is getting cold."

-.-.-.-.-

Mike's death was the most surprising one out of all… He's such an all-around nice guy, I never expected him to be at the receiving end of my cruel powers.

Blame Shakespearian tragedies and Ms. Haigs, who decided it would be a great idea to randomly divide Quinn's english class into pairs and make them perform an excerpt from one of William-boy's works.

Mike was Quinn's partner for the said project and they were assigned to act out the final scene of Romeo and Juliet…

Just no.

I killed the Asian dancer before they could even practice the kiss— obviously, Quinn didn't have to do the assignment after that. That was probably the riskiest one out of all five because I killed Mike after he met up with Quinn so the authorities interrogated her for a bit when they found his lifeless body.

She's blameless though, it wasn't like they were gonna be able to pin anything on her…

I wouldn't let that happen.

The Mike thing shook Quinn up the most and seeing her so worked up about someone else made me feel a painful pang of jealousy in my chest.

"I keep losing you," Quinn pouts, waving her hand in front of my face. "You really need to get some sleep."

I blink twice, realizing that I spaced out for the nth time today. "You'll never lose me," I reply, wiggling my eyebrows, blatantly flirting with her like usual.

"You know what I meant," I receive a pointed look from the blonde beauty and I grin back sheepishly. "Let's call it a night, you need rest," she gets up from the couch, pulling me with her.

"Cuddle time?" I ask in a soft voice and she looks back at me, biting her lower lip while nodding and guiding the both of us up the set of stairs.

So what if I'm whipped? It's fucking Quinn Fabray…

-.-.-.-.-

I love it whenever I sleep in Quinn's house or when she sleeps in mine.

I just sleep more soundly when she's near me… Especially when my arms are wrapped around her, pulling her flush against my skin.

For a few dark hours, life becomes less complicated and I stop worrying about the deal right around the corner or anything other than Quinn's rhythmic, hypnotizing heartbeat.

She's my favorite lullaby, my favorite bedtime story, my favorite dream.

"Are you asleep?" I shake my head, knowing she'd be able to feel it because of our close proximity. "Sorry,_ I'm just_— ugh, I can't sleep cause I'm worried."

"About what?

"What if the killer hurts someone I care about? I mean, what if it comes after you or something…" She says anxiously, making me feel like absolute shit. I inhale sharply through my nose, barely stopping myself from blurting out the truth. "I can't handle losing you, S."

"You'll never lose me, I told you this already," I press a lingering kiss to her cheek and her body relaxes a little. "I assure you that no serial killer will take me away from you— nothing can ever take me away from you."

"I know, but you're my best friend," she snuggles closer, burying her face into the crook of my neck. "I need you."

"I need you too," I kiss the top of her head and tighten my hold around her, loving the way her warm breath was making my whole body inexplicably tingle. "Stop worrying about this and go to sleep," she subtly bobs her head up and down. "Good night, Q."

"Nighty night," soon enough her breathing evens out and I let out a heavy sigh, there's no way I'll be able to sleep with all this fluid guilt flowing through my veins…

The citizens of the Underworld all say that I'm _the_ _best_ soul swiper cause I'm the successor of Death, the improved version. (Death 2.0)

But I think the best soul swiper is the one in my arms right now… Quinn Fabray, the girl who stole the soul of the soulless daughter of Death.

I didn't pick her, it was never _my_ choice… Fate is the ultimate decision maker across all the worlds and for some reason it woke Quinn up _that_ night, more than six years ago.

And I believe fate is on my side, I'm going to win her heart before I turn twenty… I fucking swear I will.

I'm completely hers so all that's left is for her to agree to be mine.

After a while, Quinn's phone on the nightstand beeps and I blindly reach for it through the darkness, intending to put it on silent mode.

_**Noah Puckerman: **__You, me and a couple of wine coolers? How's that sound? ;)_

I tauten my grip around the gadget, gritting my teeth at the text message.

I just found out who lucky number 6 is…

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**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


	3. Reflections Make Our Bodies Collide

******Master AN: **I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

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**Reflections Make Our Bodies Collide** [M]

**Summary: **QW13 DAY03— Quinn is Santana's boss and the blonde has a crush on her beautiful assistant but has a strange way of showing it. Fate decides to intervene…

* * *

A smile tugs on the corners of my mouth as soon as I see _her_. She runs through the open glass doors, a Starbucks paper bag in her hands and a black leather purse hanging from her shoulder. She drops her belongings onto her desk, taking out a cup of coffee and rushing into my actual office. The clacking of her stilettos gets louder and I immediately look down onto my tablet, trying to look busy. "Good _morn_—"

"You're late," I mutter out coldly, briefly looking her in the eye before refocusing on the screen. "If you're not willing to be punctual, I'm sure HR can find me someone who is."

"I'm sorry, one of the trains weren't—"

"I don't need your excuses, I just need my coffee on time," I narrow my eyes at her and she clenches her jaw, nodding. She places the venti paper cup on my table and I make a show out of rolling my eyes. "Go make yourself useful," I bark out and she obediently rushes to her desk, her miserable body language telling me how much of an asshole I am.

I let out a heavy sigh as soon as I was sure she wouldn't hear it, I hate the guilty feeling that comes after being mean to Santana. I know she doesn't deserve it, she's superb at her job, but it's the only way I know how to deal with my little crush on my assistant.

My little and_ extremely inappropriate_ crush on my beautiful assistant.

It's like I need to spew out venom just to make sure I don't bombard her with compliments or worse— romantic poetry. I groan softly, reaching for the cup of coffee and bringing the opening of the plastic lid to my lips. The warm liquid fills my mouth and eases down my throat. I smile, noting that she got my caffeine order perfectly yet again.

It's been six months since Santana became my secretary, she's a fresh college grad and I know she's only sticking around because it'll look good in her virtually empty resume if she lasts at least a year under REACH, the successful advertising firm we both work for. Sometimes I imagine how I would react if ever Santana quits, then I end up feeling like shit because even if there's not much between us, I don't want to lose her.

It sounds pathetic, but she's pretty much the best part of my day. She effortlessly makes me smile by just being so— _Santana_.

She's only 22, but she's so damn mature and brilliant, I'm already sure that she's going to go far in whatever career she decides to pursue in the future. She singlehandedly keeps my life together and yet I continue to treat her like trash… Ugh, I really don't mean to, okay? I guess it's just some messed up precautionary mechanism so I don't do something stupid like letting her know that I'm immensely attracted to her, jeapordizing both our jobs.

I exhale through my nose, picking up the phone and pressing Santana's speed dial number. "Yes, Ms. Fabray?" I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, letting her sexy voice flow into my ears.

"What are my appointments for today?"

-.-.-.-.-

_Ms. Pierce called, she says it's urgent. :)_

_x S_

I stare at the smiley and the little x, both written in purple ink on a yellow post-it. _She's adorable…_ I exaggeratedly sigh, glancing at Santana who was haunched over her computer before taking out my cellphone and dialling Brittany's number. _"Quinn!"_

I pull the receiver away from my ear, silently cursing at my best friend's loudness. "You called?"

"_Yeah, I was wondering if we were still on for early dinner with Elaine on Thursday?"_

"Mhmm," I hum out absentmindedly because Santana just decided to stand up and stretch her arms, exposing a fraction of her taut tummy.

"_Is Santana there?"_

Her name catches my attention and I refocus on the call. "It's office hours on a Tuesday, what do you think?"

"_So that's why you sound like Darth Vader right now, ease up on the heavy breathing, Q… You sound like you have asthma or something," _I feel my cheeks turn crimson and I audibly curse at Brittany. _"Alright, grumpy pants, I'll let you get back to your day dreams now. See you on Thursday!"_

"Bye," I end the call, dropping the gadget onto my dark wooden desk. I frustratedly hold my head in both of my hands, trying to put my flooded mind to rest. Someone clears their throat, I look up and see Santana standing by the doorway a sheepish smile across her lips. "What do you want?"

"It's my little brother's birthday tomorrow and I was wondering if I could leave early, he really wants to ride a boat and—"

"Then buy him a ferry ticket and find someone else to go with him," I offhandedly reply. "You know my rules, Santana."

"I know but I'll just make up for it by staying later on—"

"You can leave early tomorrow if you want to," I smirk out, narrowing my eyes at her. "But don't show up on Thursday anymore if you do." She opens her mouth but immediately clamps it back shut, nodding slowly.

"Never mind," she mumbles out, walking away without sparing me another glance. A rush of gut-wrenching guilt fills my stomach, but I keep my features clear of any emotion.

_You're fucking heartless, Fabray._

-.-.-.-.-

"Santana?" I call out and my assistant appears in my office's entrance in mere seconds, she refuses to look at me directly though. I swallow the lump in my throat, trying my best to disregard the sadness radiating from the Latina. "Did Mr. Evans call already?" She shakes her head slowly and I worry my lip between my teeth, debating with myself whether to apologize or not. "San—"

Her phone rings and I motion for her to go pick it up, buying myself more time to come up with the right words. "It's Mr. Evans," she informs me and I sigh, knowing that I needed to take my partner's call.

I guess I'll say sorry later on or something…

The chance never comes though because Sam decides to show up for an impromptu discussion of the new ad campaign we were handling. The meeting lasts longer than I expected and by the time it was over, Santana was gone. I take out my phone, typing out and deleting different versions of the same apology, but in the end I'm just too gutless to send her anything.

I'll just be nicer to her tomorrow.

I promise.

-.-.-.-.-

A sharp pain shoots through my head and I snap my eyes open, it takes a while for my surroundings to stop being blurry and my heart stops when I realize that I'm in an unfamiliar room. I bolt out of the air mattress on the floor, tripping over the sheets. I pick myself up, coming face to face with Santana.

What?

I step backwards and so does Santana.

I open my mouth and so does Santana.

I blink a couple of times and so does Santana.

_It's a mirror…_

I study my reflection, too stunned to think properly. My body is coated in flawless caramel skin rather instead of the usual paleness. My hair is raven black instead of its familiar flaxen colour. My face resembles Santana's instead of looking like my own.

What the fuck is going on?

I'm probably dreaming… I bring a hand to my face, carefully scrutinizing the tanned slender fingers by wiggling them around. "Tana!" Someone screams out before the door swings open and a little boy enters. "Mami says you need to hurry or else you're gonna get yourself in trouble with Evil Queen Quinn again." I scoff, I was just about to retort when a chiming sound fills the air. The boy runs towards the bed and finds Santana's phone under the covers. "Your boss is calling."

He hands me the device and tells me to hurry up one more time before running out of the bedroom. I immediately take the call, desperate for answers to my endless questions. "Hello?"

"_Quinn? Please tell me that's you," _I gulp, hearing my own voice on the line. _"What the fuck is going on?"_

"I don't know," I rush out, covering my mouth with my palm when Santana's voice comes out rather than the one I'm accustomed to. "This can't be real."

"_What do we do?"_

"Call the office, tell them we're both doing fieldwork today then meet me in that cafe near our building," I try to remain calm even if my head was starting to hurt with the relentless onslaught of questions. She agrees straight away and hangs up, I pinch the bridge of my nose, glancing at my reflection again— the blood drains from my face when I realize that I'm going to have to take a shower and change, which means I'm going to finally see Santana naked.

_Typical._

-.-.-.-.-

"Please tell me you know how to fix this," Santana, who's in _my_ body, sits down across me with a clearly worried expression.

I gape at her, raising an eyebrow and shaking my head. "Why will I know how to fix this?"

"I don't know cause you're older?" She looks so distraught, I can't even find her statement offensive. "I was so lost when I woke up this morning."

"Hey, it wasn't easy waking up in that pigsty you call a bedroom either, and I'm less than four years older than you so watch your mouth, " I spit out and she looks away. _Wow, I still can't manage to be nice to her, huh? _"Wait— I'm sorry," I choke out, rubbing at my temples to calm myself down. "Do you have any idea how this happened?"

"No clue," she says hopelessly, staring at the wooden table between us. "I came home from work yesterday then I hung out with my family and then I woke up this morning in your apartment."

"Well, nothing strange happened to me yesterday," I grip the edge of the table, feeling the frustration build up inside me. "This whole thing is impossible, people don't just wake up in other people's bodies," I rationally argue and she nods in agreement.

"I have an idea," I quirk an eyebrow at her and she continues. "Google?"

My mouth drops open but I can't come up with a good enough argument to shoot down her idea so I reluctantly nod. We exchange bags so we could retrieve our respective phones. We both Google _'body swap_ _reversal_'… I go through most of the top links, the disappointment constantly growing until a certain link catches my eye.

_Possible Supernatural Remedies- Reversing Soul Exchange_

I tap on the blue phrase, arriving at a black webpage with a short list in a light gray font.

Possible Supernatural Remedies- Reversing Soul Exchange:

1) Renounce any curses made to the Gods  
2) Collide into partner to knock souls into correct carriers  
3) Blood contact  
4) Kiss  
5) Wait for Fate

I grit my teeth, mashing the lock button to get rid of the useless website. "Did you find anything?"

"There's this list—"

"Please tell me you're not talking about the one that suggest we wait for fate at the end of it?" I sigh through my nose when she slant her lips. "Okay, might as well try the other things on there," I finish off my coffee and stand up, leading the way out of the cafe and towards my car, which Santana brought. We both enter the vehicle and I drive off to a nearby park so we don't have to perform the things on the ridiculous list in front of an audience.

-.-.-.-.-

"I'm sorry God, I take it back! I love my life!" I yell out, relishing in the fact that not a lot of people were in the park since it was both a school day for the kids and a work day for _normal_ adults. "I'm sorry if I offended anyone up there by being ungrateful, I like being Quinn Fabray!"

I slump my shoulders when nothing happens and Santana reassuringly places her hand on my lower back and smiles at me. "I don't care if I'm broke and drowning in student debt, I didn't mean it when I said I wanted to be someone else!" She shouts out towards the sky and I realize how stupid we both look, but I also find it sorta cute— well, _she's_ cute. "I was kidding when I said Taylor Swift ruined my age for me! I want to be 22!"

I snort, giving her an _'are you serious right now' _look, she just shrugs her shoulders and continues to holler random things at no one in particular. "This isn't working," I say when Santana's voice cracks because of the continuous yelling. "Let's try something else."

Without a warning, I'm laying on the grass, flat on my back with my own body on top of me. "Fuck," Santana curses, rubbing her forehead. "Okay so colliding into each other didn't work," she gets up, pulling me back onto my own feet. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," I comb a bit of brown hair behind my ear, shifting my feet awkwardly. "Do you want to try the blood thing? I mean, we don't have—"

"I'm willing to try anything," she cuts me off. "My mom and brother are only in the city until Saturday and I really wanted to spend time with them," she discloses and I feel like kicking myself in my face for my previous actions. "Oh, we can use these," she takes out a box of something from her bag, handing it to me. "My mom has diabetes so she wanted me to get her those. The amount of blood isn't specified so a drop might work?"

I examine the box of unopened diabetes pricks and gulp, remembering how much needles scared me when I was a kid. "Yeah, alright," I force out, trying to seem brave even if my heart was jumping up and down in my chest. I break the seal, bringing out two of the tiny white plastic objects and handing one to Santana. She replaces the box in her bag and we both uncover the needles. "Shit."

The sharp metal shines under the sunlight, appearing a lot longer and more imposing than it really was. Santana extends a pale fingertip towards me, which was already stained with a drop of blood. "Quinn?"

"I don't like needles," I utter out, handing Santana back the prick.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt," she steps closer and gives me a thumbs up with her free hand. "You can do it, I promise."

"Fuck it," I close my eyes and bury the sharp needle into Santana's skin, sending a tingling sensation throughout the body I was in. I pull it out soon enough and a drop of scarlet rushes out of the invisible hole. "You're clean, right?" I ask right before we come in contact with each other and she creases her forehead. "I mean, I just want to make sure that you aren't carrying _any_—"

She presses her finger onto mine before I can even finish, angrily rubbing the tiny wounds against each other. Like I expected, nothing happens and we remain stuck in the other's body. "Oh my God," she groans out before pulling her hand away and sitting on the grass.

"San—"

"Shut up! It's a drop of blood what do you mean _'are you clean'_— fucking _A_," she yells out, surprising me into silence. "You know what? I'm so sick of you treating me like shit, Ms. Fabray. I know you're my boss, but you don't have to be a bitch to me _all_ the time," she clenches her fists until her knuckles turn white. "I'm trying, okay? I swear if anybody else spoke to me the way that you do I'd go all Lima Heights on their asses."

"San—"

"I'm not a fucking pushover, but I know this is the real world and all the people at the bottom of the corporate ladder need to plaster on megawatt smiles and sweat out honey to keep their jobs," she continues with her rant, a couple of stray Spanish words infiltrating her sentences every now and then. "—I'm the best fucking assistant in REACH, but for some reason you have this need to treat me like crap… I'd understand if I sucked at my job but I'm awesome and—"

I kneel down in front of her, deciding to let her vent everything out before speaking. "Santana, I'm sorry," I whisper softly when she stopped pouring out all of her anger. "I'm aware that you're good at what you do, trust me… And I know I'm usually out of line and I'm just— _I'm sorry_." She stays quiet, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground below. I cup her chin and make her look me in the eye, willing her to believe me.

"It's okay," she says in a sincere tone after a while of silence, our faces are so close, the closest they've ever been. It's so weird though— looking at yourself through someone else eyes… "We'll work on it?" She asks hopefully and I nod right away.

"Yeah, we will," I drop my hand and sit backwards, placing distance between us. "What do we do now though?"

"Well, the next thing on the list is umm— _kiss_," she croaks out, handing me a wet wipe to clean off my bloody finger. "We probably don't even need to try that one cause I think it's obvious by now that the whole list is bogus and—" I crash our lips together, swallowing the rest of her words.

_It was supposed to be a peck…_

It's my first kiss with Santana though and I want it to be fucking memorable in more ways than one. The kiss itself is weird, the feeling of my own lips kissing me back is downright odd… But I can't really focus on the bizarreness of the situation because I've waited months for Santana to kiss me and I'll take what I can get.

_Even if I'm sorta kissing myself?_

We both get lost in the movements of our lips, lost enough for Santana to let out a small moan. I poke my tongue into her mouth, but I regret doing so because she promptly breaks the kiss after. I open my eyes, seeing a confused expression on my own face, hazel eyes refusing to meet my gaze. "Err— umm, well that didn't work," she stammers out, standing on her feet and brushing off pieces of grass from her clothing.

"Santana—"

"Let's get out of here?" She cuts me off, obviously shaken up. I begrudgingly agree, unsure of how to put her at ease. We start walking back to the car, a tense and awkward silence settling between us. We were almost out of the park when an old lady feeding the birds calls my attention. I squint at her and she tells me to come closer, I shake my head because old people are usually crazy fucks and I didn't want to deal with anymore insanity.

I start walking away but Santana changes routes and starts moving towards the lady on the bench. I tell her that we need to go but she blatantly ignores me, choosing to listen to the older woman instead. I walk up to them, placing a hand over one of Santana's shoulders. "What do you mean?" I hear her ask.

"I just felt it, there's a strong magical force surrounding the both of you," she throws more crumbs on the ground, attracting more disgusting pigeons.

"We switched bodies," Santana reveals and I gawk at her for naively divulging the information to a completely stranger. "How can we reverse it?"

The unknown woman, wearing an array of colors and jewellery, tilts her head to the side and intently peers at the both of us. "The magic seems to be clean and pure," she whispers out and I feel an inexplicable shiver travel down my spine. "You two just need to give it what it wants and you'll switch back."

"What does it want?" I demand, speaking to her for the first time.

"How should I know?" She replies with her own question and I groan, stomping my foot on the ground. Santana hooks an arm through mine and gives me a pointed look before smiling at the creepy lady.

"Thanks for your help, we appreciate it," she says gratefully before tugging me towards the parking lot. "Are you really incapable of being nice to people?" I guess we're just going to ignore that fact that we almost made out less than five minutes ago…

_Okay then._

"She was useless," I mutter out, pressing the unlock button on my car's keys. We both get in and I start up the engine but keep the brakes in place. "What do you think this magical force wants?"

"I have no idea," she rubs at her eyelids with a closed fist, sighing audibly. "You have that dinner appointment with Ms. Pierce in a while by the way," she reminds me and I look at the clock, realizing just how much time we used up today.

"Fuck, I can't miss that… I need to make sure Elaine takes the deal," I grip the steering wheel tightly, trying to come up with a plan. "You need to go," I look to my right, biting the inside of my cheek. "It will be quick, Elaine just needs to sign something and then you can leave… I'll go with you but I'll just stay at the bar or something."

"Elaine?"

"There's only one Elaine that I work with," I say impatiently. "Don't tell me you don't know who I'm talking about…"

"No, it's no that— uh, never mind. Okay, I'll go but my mom wanted us to have a special dinner tonight," she says softly, staring at her lap. "Anyway, it doesn't really matter, I'll just tell her—"

"We can have a late dinner with your family after," I offer and her eyes widen. "I mean, they want to have dinner with Santana and you don't look like Santana so I'm assuming I need to be there too." I explain and she nods. "So you go to my dinner and I go to yours… Deal?"

"Deal," she beams back and I finally back out of the parking space, driving us towards the restaurant Brittany wanted to eat in.

"Don't eat anything heavy, I don't want your family to think Evil Queen Quinn doesn't like your mom's cooking," I say in a joking tone, but Santana snaps her head towards me. "Your brother is pretty cute. What's his name?"

"Oh God, what did he say to you?"

"Nothing, he just told me to hurry up this morning so I wouldn't be late for work," I try to pacify her worries and she breathes out heavily. "It's fine, San."

"I'm still sorry though, you aren't evil… And his name is Ethan," she rolls his eyes. "I swear, he has such a big mouth for such a tiny body."

"His mouth is the right size… I mean, have you seen Sam's?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood. It works and I earn a chuckle from Santana. The playful banter continues until we reach the restaurant, where we ended up parting ways after I quickly briefed her about the huge deal she was about to close under my name.

_Worried? Who's worried?_

-.-.-.-.-

"Quinn said you were around," I tense up when I feel someone wrap their arms around me from behind. I twist the bar stool, coming face to face with Elaine. I wrinkle my brow, wondering what the hell she was doing. "Why didn't you text me that you were gonna be here?" The brunette presses a lingering kiss to my cheek and I freeze.

Elaine and Santana?

What the hell?

"Elaine, what—"

"Why so formal?" She chuckles against my ear and I pull away. "Oh yeah, I forgot you don't want the ice queen finding out about us—" I part my lips, feeling hot anger work its way up my throat. "I know, I know, you hate it when I insult her… Which I don't understand because she's a total bitch to you, babe."

The anger fizzles up and I brush off Elaine's arms. "You should go back to your table."

"Fine, I'm about to make Quinn really happy so let's pray a miracle happens and she starts treating you better. I'll see you soon," Elaine pecks me right on the lips, smugly wiggling her eyebrows before strutting off towards Santana.

I have no right to be angry.

And I'm not…

I don't know what I'm feeling but it's not anger— more like emptiness? _Fuck. _I grab the bartenders attention, ordering a double vodka to help me wash down my orange juice. Santana meets me outside later on, victoriously informing that Elaine signed and everything went smoothly. I barely looked at her, the incandescent jealousy still burning my veins. "Have you been drinking?"

"Just a bit," I shrug a shoulder but before I could open the car, she swipes my keys.

"I'll drive then," I don't even bother to argue about my soberness anymore, allowing her to have her way because it's easier than confronting her and risk saying something that I'll regret.

The drive to her place is immensely uncomfortable, she tried to make conversation a couple of times but I shot down all her attempts, making the situation even more awkward.

Ugh. I just really want to go home and sleep, but I still needed to keep my side of the deal...

-.-.-.-.-

"Tana!" Ethan jumps into my arms as soon as we enter Santana's tiny apartment. "You're late! You know what that means…" I look back at Santana but she seems as lost as I was. "Ethan spin!" He screams and I hear Santana let out a soft _'oh God' _in the background. "Tana, spin me!"

"Ethan, get down, can't you see Santana has a guest?" The boy releases his grip and lands on his feet, finally looking behind me. "Good evening, I'm Carmela, Santana's mom."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, I'm Quinn," Santana says politely and I wonder how she's not stuttering right now… _This is so messed up._ "I hope it's okay that Santana brought me along for dinner."

"Of course," Carmela says through a grin, motioning towards the fixed dining table. "Come on, let's all eat. Ethan, go wash your hands."

The boy doesn't move though, tugging on my wrist and making me bend down so he can whisper something into my ear. "You were right when you said that Evil Queen Quinn looked like a Disney princess… I agree, she's pretty, S."

The blood rushes to my cheeks— _Santana thinks I'm pretty?_ Carmela tells Ethan to wash up again and the boy finally heads to the sink. We all settle down around the table, saying grace before we dig in.

I'm glad that both Ethan and Carmela are more interested in _'Quinn'_, I don't feel as pressured to act just like Santana. Their quirkiness makes me momentarily forget about the whole Elaine thing and just enjoy the pleasant company.

Her family is so lovely— I feel horrible for not letting her spend more time with them.

Gah.

-.-.-.-.-

"That went well," Santana comments while drying the last plate with a small towel. Turns out it's a Lopez rule for the last one to arrive to wash the dishes, but Santana didn't want me to clean everything up so she found a way to charmingly convince her mom to let _'Quinn'_ help out a little. We both walk back to the small living room, where Carmela was watching TV with Ethan.

"Quinn, are you staying the night?" Ethan asks and Santana looks at me.

"_Umm_— we actually have a lot of work to do so we might go to my place for a while," I pipe in, earning me curious looks from both Carmela and Santana. "I mean, we need to finish off some important paperwork tonight, but Quinn gave me the whole day off tomorrow so I can spend time with you guys."

"Day off?" Santana asks and I nod, elbowing her discreetly. "I mean, yeah, I gave you a day off… Now I remember."

"But I thought Quinn didn't give day offs or early days, that's why we couldn't go on the boat trip yesterday," Ethan says confusedly and Carmela flashes Santana what seems to be a sorry look.

"I'm sorry, don't mind him, Quinn," Carmela tells Santana and I sink my teeth into my lip in shame. "Come on, Ethan… Say good night and let's get you to bed." Carmela leaves, flashing Santana an honest smile before pressing a kiss to my cheek and saying _'good night, mija, try to get at least a few hour of sleep later' _before she disappears into the only bedroom.

Ethan gives Santana a formal goodnight before hugging me tightly. "Nighty Tana," he kisses my cheek and I hug him back. "I need to tell you something by the way," he says in a softer tone and I tell him to go ahead. "Yesterday, when I blew out my candles I wished that Quinn would realize how awesome you are so she won't be so mean to you anymore… I guess I was a good boy this year cause it worked." Ethan tells me happily and I feel my face pale, he hugs me one more time before running off to the bedroom.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I just found out why we switched bodies," I answer her.

"Why?"

"Ethan."

-.-.-.-.-

"Okay, so we swapped bodies because my eight year old brother wished that you were nicer to me?" Santana asks and I nod, pouring out some more wine and swishing it around the glass. "Well, you've been relatively nice to me the whole day… Why aren't we changing back?"

"I don't know, alright?" I say through a scowl and she averts her eyes elsewhere.

"It's okay, I'm sure we'll figure it out, at least we have an idea of what this is now."

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating Elaine?" I ask without preamble and her jaw drops, resembling a deer caught in headlights. "Now the fact that she always preferred to meet in my office makes sense."

"I'm not dating her, Quinn," Santana groans out. I scoff, downing my third glass of red wine. "And even if I were, it shouldn't concern you cause I'm single and so is Elaine."

"You don't have to deny it, you know? There's no need to hide it anymore."

"What? Like you've been hiding your attraction towards me?" She retorts, folding her arms over her chest. "Brittany asked me if I _finally_ tapped Lopez before I could even order a drink a while ago."

"Fuck," I make a mental note to get angry at Brittany later on, I reach for the half-empty bottle but Santana moves it away. "Hey—"

"Enough, Quinn," she tells me sternly and I roll my eyes. "Talk to me."

"I don't want to," I push myself away from the kitchen counter, scraping the legs of the chair against the floor. "I want to sleep," I start to walk towards my bedroom but she grabs my wrist and forces me to turn around. "Santana, I'm not in the mood for this."

"You can't go, we still need to figure this all out."

"Whatever," I try to shake off her grip but she doesn't let go.

"Quinn—"

"You're attracted to me too so we're even," I tell her cockily, in an attempt to keep my walls up. "Ethan told me you thought I looked like a Disney princess or something," I expect her to back down, to flinch even, but her serious stare doesn't even waver.

"Quinn, I want to fix this… I'm sorry if I pissed you off but we need to—"

I kiss her to shut her up, my head was already spinning because of the alcohol and she was just making things worse. I blindly push her backwards until her ass hits the counter behind her. I decide to boldly delve my tongue into her mouth once again, this time she doesn't pull away, this time she kisses me back just as intensely.

"Do you know how annoying you are?" I lift her up and deposit her on top of the marble surface, ripping her bottoms down her legs. "I'm so tired of the way you make me feel, it's exhausting to feel _this much_ for someone."

I ignore the strangeness of seeing my own body semi-naked under me, deciding to just go for it. I bite her neck, soothingly swiping my tongue over the soft skin afterwards. "Quinn—" She whimpers and I wish I could hear her moan my name in _her _voice instead of my own. I unbutton her top, not even bothering to remove it completely before trailing my hand down and clutching the band of her panties. "Please."

I kiss her cheek before dipping my fingers under the damp cloth and touching her where she needed it the most. It's my body and I know what makes _me_ feel good so I don't hold back, using all the insider knowledge in my arsenal to work her up as swiftly as possible. I rub circles around her clit and press kisses all over throat, making her squirm wildly. "It's so difficult to be professional when you're so fucking sexy all the time," I husk in her ear, moving my fingers closer to her entrance but not giving her what she really wants.

"Quinn, please," she crows out, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down to make our lips collide.

"Please what?" I taunt against her lips, she nips at my bottom one, tugging it towards her and I feel my eyes roll back.

"Fuck me," she runs her tongue across the area she bit and I groan, tearing off her panties and thrusting two fingers inside her without wasting anymore time. I briefly wonder if this is just some sick glorified version of masturbation because I'm essentially touching myself, but Santana doesn't let my brain wander off to far. Her loud moaning and cursing, helping me focus on the task at hand. "Right there, _shit_—"

She meets my thrusts, moving her hips up and down to enhance the feeling. I easily locate the spot that makes her toes curl… _It's my body, I've had it for almost 26 years, which means I know it pretty well._ I make sure to hit _that_ spot over and over again, using my thumb to sloppily trace her clit. "Feels good?"

"It feels— _ah_-amazing," she sucks in her lower lip, clenching her eyes shut. I keep pumping my fingers in and out of her, my heart thumping violently whenever she would clench around my digits. I kiss her hard, swallowing her moans and other sounds of pleasure.

"Come for me," I lick a line up her jaw before pressing a lingering kiss onto her temple. I bury my fingers up to my knuckles and press down on her clit, I feel her arch her back, surrendering even more of herself to me. I feel her insides choke my fingers, as a gush of wetness flows out, coating my skin with my own juices. (Uhh) I shake my head, trying to keep myself in the mood and stop myself from over thinking things yet again.

"Holy fuck," she mumbles out hoarsely after she comes down from her high, hazel eyes dilated and completely unfocused. She whimpers when I pull out, her fingers curling around my forearm. "You have no idea how many times I fantasized about this," she chuckles and I gulp because I kinda had an idea… _I fantasize about this all the time_ "I never dreamt of having sex with you _as_ _you_ though."

"Who knew it was possible, right?" I respond, standing up straighter on shaky legs. "So much for trying to find a solution to our problem," she reaches for my wrist and brings my wet fingers to her mouth without a word, I feel her lick in between them before sucking off all the moisture. "Shit," I feel a rush of arousal hit my core and Santana sits up.

"Sorry, I've always wondered how you'd taste…"

"Why are you apologizing?" She shrugs, wrapping her legs around my waist and resting her ankles on my ass, she pulls me towards her again, grinning mischievously. "What's up?"

"I figured since we both have no clue how to deal with this whole thing right now… Tonight, we can _wait for Fate_— tonight, we can just enjoy each other."

"Ms. Lopez, I think you're being a bit inappropriate right now," I say cheekily and she playfully rolls her eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Me, you and your bedroom," she answers, her voice literally oozing sexiness. I don't respond with words, I just drag her to my room, where we proceed to make each other scream at the top of our lungs. I'm pretty sure my all my neighbours now know how Santana and I sound when we orgasm by now… _Oh well, lucky them. _I'm really not sure how many times we had sex— how many times I came around Santana's fingers, how many times Santana flooded my mouth with her wetness and vice versa.

I quickly got over the fact that I'm making love to my own body and it didn't seem to bother Santana at all… So I just shut my brain off and allowed pure pleasure to surge through. The last thing I remember is whispering out the words _'I think I'm in love with you' _to an unconscious Santana, brushing blonde strands away from her closed eyes and pressing a loving kiss onto her forehead.

-.-.-.-.-

I open my eyes, dark brown hair flooding my vision. I press a blind kiss onto whatever skin my lips could reach, knowing it was Santana in my arms. _Wait… Dark hair? _I abruptly break away from her, widely grinning when I realize I'm in control of my own body again. I don't hesitate, I kiss Santana on the lips, waking her up with an onslaught of pecks.

_Kissing her definitely feels better than kissing myself by the way._

"Mmm," she hums out, her eyes slowly opening. I kiss her again as soon as I see beautiful brown orbs, keeping my lips firmly on her this time. "You're you," she says in a scratchy voice that makes me want to take advantage of the fact that we were both naked under the bedsheets. "And I'm me," she adds cutely and I smile.

"Yeah, you're you," I whisper against her lips. "I don't know what happened… I guess fate just wanted us to fuck like bunnies," she hits me on the arm and I tell her that I'm just kidding. "But seriously, I have no idea how we_ 'gave it what it wanted_'," I say, remembering the words of the lady at the park.

"Maybe it has something to do with you telling me that you think you love me?" Santana says softly and my mouth dries up, I break away, sitting back. "Quinn—"

"What are you talking about?" I play stupid, shaking my head and forcing out a chuckle. "I never said that."

"You did last night when—"

"You were probably dreaming or something," I get up from the bed, grabbing clean clothes from my closet and putting them on as fast as I can. "Well, everything is back to normal and I think you should go… It's you day off, go spend time with your mom and Ethan."

"Quinn, don't shut me out," she says in a voice much softer than her usual confident one. I walk to the bathroom without even looking at her. By the time I got out, she was already wearing her clothes. She angrily glares at me and I look away like a coward. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing, I thought I told you to go home," the words burn my tongue and I regret saying them as soon as tears form in her eyes. She begins to walk the door but I stop her. "San, wait," she pauses, turning around to face me again. "Look, yesterday was probably the weirdest day of my life but it was fun. We got to know each other better and I'm sure it somehow helped our _professional_ relationship…"

"You're a piece of shit," Santana wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and heads to the exit again. "Expect my resignation on Monday, Ms. Fabray," she says in a venomously casual tone before leaving the apartment, shutting the door with a bang.

I plop down onto the couch, evaluating what just happened. Everything is back to normal, Santana's just being a little dramatic… She's not going to quit, she needs the job.

_And I need her…_

"What am I doing?" I ask, looking around the room for my phone. I dial Santana but of course she doesn't pick up, I rush to put on appropriate clothes before bolting out of my apartment and heading to Santana's. I park the car in the first free space I see, hurrying towards the intercom system of building. I press down on the button of her unit and just let the words flow out.

"Santana! I'm sorry, you're right— I said I loved you last night, well I said I think I did, but then now I _know_ I do… People usually get into relationships first before they fall in love, but I've always been different. Please don't quit on me, I need you— I'll be better this time around, I promise I'll—"

"_Quinn?"_

"Shit," I curse before covering my mouth with hand. "Carmela? Uhh— is Santana around?" I ask, absolutely mortified that the older Lopez heard everything I just said.

"_No, she took Ethan out…" _I make sure to let go of the button before loudly berating myself for being such a careless idiot. _"Are you still there? Do you want to come up?"_

"Umm no, it's okay… Do you know where they went though? I really need to talk to Santana." I ignore the ringing in my ears and the molten heat coating my skin from the embarrassment of letting the mom of the girl of my dreams know my innermost feelings.

"_I'm sorry, they didn't tell me. Did you try her phone?"_

"Yeah she's not picking up though, well, it's fine… Umm, sorry by the way, if you heard anything that was inappropriate," I apologize into the small black box.

"_It's okay with me, but I think Santana would've appreciated hearing all of that more," _Carmela teases and I shake my head at myself. _"Let my daughter know, Quinn."_

"Don't worry, I _will_," I bid Carmela goodbye, making a promise to visit her before they leave tomorrow morning. I reenter my car, racking my brain for an idea of Santana's current location. "Boats," I mumble out before starting the car and rushing off to the pier.

-.-.-.-.-

I brush past the sailor in uniform, blindly handing him my ticket and jumping onto the boat. I crane my neck, searching the tourist crowd for Santana. I find her sitting with Ethan near one of the windows by the back, the kid immediately alerting her of my presence by pointing at me.

"Quinn?" Santana stands up, staring at me unbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

"Wait, I just need you to listen to me and file away what I'm about to say because it's important," I dry swallow, mustering up as much courage as I can. "I do love you and I did say it last night… I know it's weird because I've been such a _bi_— witch to you," I bite back the _'B-word'_ since Ethan was obviously listening. "But I love you and you can't quit on me."

"Is _that_ what this is about? My resignation?" She demands and I shake my head wildly. "Quinn, you can't just say shit like that to keep me around," she looks back at Ethan. "Sorry babe, that was a bad word, I'll put a dollar in the swear jar later on."

My heart melts a little at how adorable she is, I step forward, making her focus on me again. "No, I mean it, I love you and of course I don't want you to quit your job, but I really don't want you to quit on _me_," I hold her hands in mine and wait for her to stop struggling before continuing. "I know I need work and I promise that things will be better between us this time around— just don't leave me."

"You're such a bitch, Quinn," she says softly and I nod because I completely agree. "Won't it be easier for us if I quit though? I mean, we can't be in an actual relationship if we're both still working for REACH…"

"Just finish the year and I'll make you one hell of a recommendation letter," I cup her cheek and she leans into the touch. "We were able to survive in each other's bodies for a day, I'm sure we can handle a couple more months together."

"So you're still my boss, huh?"

"Well, _technically_ yeah… But as soon as you stop being my assistant, I'm going to make you my girlfriend and then you'll be the boss in the relationship."

She chuckles sceptically and I smile because of the sound. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Ms. Fabray."

"Don't worry, I'm not," I pull her closer, planting a kiss onto her lips, but making sure to keep it chaste since Ethan and a bunch of other people were around. "So?"

"So… I think I might love you too and I guess I'm seeing you bright and early in the office on Monday morning, _boss_," she replies, baring her perfect smile. I grin back, tugging her towards Ethan.

"Hey there, Quinn," Ethan greets me and I give him a quick hug before thanking him earnestly. "What for?"

"Making my wish come true."

* * *

**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


	4. Dripping In Gold

**********Master AN:** I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

* * *

**Dripping In Gold** [T]

**Summary: **QW13 DAY04— In year 1921, eighteen-year-old Quinn Fabray boards the Hemsworth in order to cross the Atlantic Ocean and start a new life. But she wasn't prepared for the aforementioned ship to sink, and she sure as hell wasn't prepared to be saved by a mermaid…

* * *

Quinn grins as the fresh ocean breeze rushes past her, she grips the painted metal railing and gazes at the beguilingly blue expanse in front of her. "Better be careful there, miss," an old man with a white beard says from somewhere behind causing her to turn around and look at him perplexedly. "Don't want you falling overboard now, do we?"

"Of course not," she agrees without missing a beat and he nods, seemingly pleased by her speedy answer. "It just amazes me, that's all…"

"What does?"

"The ocean," she shrugs and focuses on the astonishing view once more. "It's so beautiful, it seems so infinite like it will take you forever _and_ a lifetime to experience all of its wonders."

"And don't forget— _dangers_," Quinn arches an eyebrow at the stranger's alarming remark and he goes on to explain what he meant. "I don't want to ruin the image you have in that pretty little head of yours, but I was a sailor for most of my life and believe me when I tell you that there are perilous things living in these waters."

Quinn just nods, not wanting to keep the peculiar conversation going. Honestly, she was starting to get creeped out, but she didn't want to be rude by making it obvious. The man makes sense anyway— there were sharks, killer whales, stingrays and other harmful creatures in the ocean so his warning came from somewhere logical… He bids her adieu after a while of uncomfortable silence and she lets out a sigh of relief as soon as she was alone again.

She squints, catching a small out-of-place flash of red in the distance.

_What was that?_

-.-.-.-.-

"Santana, you're going to get us both in so much trouble," Rachel reprimands her best friend, making the raven-haired mermaid roll her eyes. "The king won't like this…"

"I can handle my own father, Rach," Santana cockily waves her hand before swimming closer to the huge vessel. "And _that_ is exactly why humans can't breathe underwater anymore, lazy bastards," she comments, running her eyes across the underside of the ship.

_Travelling across the seas on a metal machine? Foolish._

"I don't think they ever had the ability to breathe underwater like us…"

"Whatever, you know I never really paid attention in Aquaschool," she shrugs, floating upwards to see more of the ship. "Come on, I want to check out the top."

Rachel grabs her wrist and pulls her back down. "Are you insane? We shouldn't even be here, San," she says anxiously, pleading with Santana to reconsider. "I'm going to get my tail cut off because of you."

"Don't be so dramatic," Santana shakes her head and pulls away from Rachel's hold. "I'm just going to take a little peek and then we'll go home, alright?" She raises up her right hand. "Mermaid's promise."

"Fine, but I swear if anyone sees you, we're screwed," Rachel sighs, falling back while Santana propelled herself upwards to be able to see the side of the ship. She doesn't surface completely though, well aware that human beings weren't allies of her people… A blonde figure on the deck catches her eye and she absentmindedly moves closer, wanting a clearer image.

_She's beautiful…_

Santana gulps, memorizing the way the wind flowed through the girl's white dress and golden locks… She rises even more, completely captivated, but Rachel's panicked screams knocked her out of her stupor at the last second.

She barely had enough time to stop herself from emerging completely, abruptly jerking her red tail and allowing a portion of it to come in contact with the dry air above. "What do you think you're doing?" Rachel demands while dragging her back down, concealing them in the depths of the ocean once more. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

"No, I was just—" Santana blinks a couple of times, wondering what the hell was going through her head. "There's a girl on that ship… I— she's absolutely gorgeous, Rachel," she says, still stunned by the ivory beauty. "I need to see her again—" she starts to float upwards, but her friend stops her. "Let me go!"

"Santana, it's getting late! The royal guard will be sent to look for us _again _if we don't make it back before dinner," she knows Rachel's right and it's _so _damn annoying— she can't risk her father finding out about her secret daily adventures. She looks up one more time before reluctantly agreeing to head back to Atlantis.

_Who was that?_

-.-.-.-.-

Quinn stretches out her arms and settles down on one of the plastic deck chairs, taking out her little black leather-bound journal so she can scribble down her thoughts. A part of her still refuses to believe that she's actually on her way to Europe to chase her dreams… It took her family a while to save up for the ticket, but she knows the money isn't going to go to waste.

She smiles, vividly playing out her favorite daydreams.

Of course, it wasn't the most ideal situation— a young, single woman travelling the high seas all alone, but Quinn is pretty confident in her ability to take care of herself.

And nothing worth it comes easy, anyway.

-.-.-.-.-

"Rach, I think I see her!" Santana exclaims, fiddling with the small telescope that she was holding. "Definitely her, she's even prettier than I remember," she hands Rachel the optical instrument, finally showing her best friend the girl that has relentlessly plagued her dreams for the past couple of nights. "Oh my, Neptune… I _need_ to meet her."

"I must admit that she _is _attractive, but Santana… You're way in over your head if you think you'll _ever_ meet her," Rachel says softly, trying to get rid of Santana's irrational fantasy before it gets any worse. "She's a human and we can't keep following this ship around, soon it'll be too far from Atlantis."

"I know that, but—whatever, I'll figure it out, okay?" Santana worries her lip between her teeth, silently praying to all the gods she knew for a chance to speak to the beautiful human at least once in her lifetime.

"Let's go home, we'll just come back and visit her tomorrow," Rachel offers, sensing how distraught her friend was becoming. "I promise."

"Yeah, okay," Santana nods weakly, snatching the telescope and peeping a few more times, capturing mental pictures of the beautiful stranger.

-.-.-.-.-

Quinn crosses the threshold and exposes herself to the chilly night air that promptly covered her light skin with tiny goosebumps. She was currently wearing the only gown that she owned since it was the last night of the ship's voyage and also the evening of the formal ball. She breathes in deeply, filling her lungs with clean oxygen that she'll surely miss once she's back in a polluted city-setting.

The Hemsworth was going to arrive in England tomorrow morning, which means she needs to say goodbye to the ocean and the feelings it evokes. She stares at the waves, studying the graceful movement of the fluctuating current. It's silly how comfortable she feels when she's surrounded by water, as if the tides possess some sort of magic that calms her down and appeases all of her worries.

She closes her eyes and times her breathing with the rise and fall of the ship.

-.-.-.-.-

"Santana, it's too late, the moon is already—"

"I see her! I knew I'd see her," Santana bursts out, making the familiar swim towards the large boat. It's the latest they've ever stayed out, but it's also supposedly the last time she's going to gaze at the stranger— the vessel was about to exit their vast territory. "It's too damn dark," she complains, ascending to make the moonlight more useful. "She's in a pretty dress, Rach…" Santana says, appreciating the human's elegant appearance. "So lovely."

"Great, you saw her, now we need to—"

"What I would do for a chance to actually talk to my angel…"

"Your _what_? I'm certain that we already missed supper, we need to go…" Santana stubbornly shakes her head and swims upward in spite of Rachel's protests. She's merely a fraction away from the surface and she knows she shouldn't be _this _close, but she _needs_ to get closer— just a bit more. "San, come back here!"

Santana ignores Rachel, her eyes firmly fixed on the blonde— she knows the human can't see her through the water, but she feels as if there's an inexplicable connection between them. Something so much stronger than simple eye contact… She trails her brown eyes down the woman's body, learning her clothed anatomy by heart.

The distance between them is minuscule enough for the princess to clearly see the levelled up and down motions of the goddess' chest, the delicate heaving seemed to mediate the movement of the sea itself. "And if it's the gods' will for me to love a being that will never be mine, then so be it… I at least have the ability to dream," she solemnly whispers out to comfort herself more than anything. "Goodbye, beautiful."

She notices that the stranger closed her eyes and she momentarily shuts her own, wholeheartedly wishing that their inevitable parting can be prevented by some sort of intervention— anything, really. She feels a hand wrap around her wrist and she sighs heavily, they need to go and she needs to _let go_. "San—"

"I know, Rach, I know…" She averts her eyes upwards one more time, praying for the blonde's good fortune. "May the gods lead you to where you need to be," she says quietly before allowing Rachel to haul her towards Atlantis. She grudgingly swims away, her insides burning with a desire that she'll never be able to quench.

They were a few miles away from the ship when a loud metallic cracking noise echoes through the water, Santana abruptly turns around, narrowing her eyes so she could see clearer. Bubbles began to torrent out of bottom hull and she feels panic spread through her body. "Something's wrong," she starts to head back, but Rachel blocks her way. "_Move_, I need to make sure she's okay."

"Santana!" Rachel yells out, grabbing the princess' shoulders. "You can't go back there, it's too dangerous and we're in enough trouble as it is," she rationally says, but Santana wasn't really listening. "Let's be reasonable here, you don't even know her…"

"I don't care, all I know is I'll regret it for the rest of my life if I don't go back now," She shrugs off Rachel's grip and propels herself in the direction of the ship, launching herself right into the mayhem.

-.-.-.-.-

Quinn runs out of her cabin as soon as the alarm is set off, she makes her way back up to the deck, trying to make sense of all of the chaos. Hysteric cries come from every direction, shaking her out of her stupor. She starts to panic too, looking left and right, searching for a lifeboat with enough space for her. "Miss, over here," an orange life vest is thrusted into her arms and one of the crew members helps her onto a small wooden craft full of women and children.

They start to lower the raft, but halfway through, the ropes snags and a child almost falls off— Quinn lunges forward to help the overwrought mother. Quinn was about to settle back down into her seat when the raft lurches again, sending her flying off without her safety jacket on. She violently collides with the cold dark water below, her gown weighing her down and hampering her ability to keep herself upright.

She kicks and trashes her legs, desperately trying to resurface. Her limbs lose their strength and her vision blurs because of the lack of oxygen and also the saltiness of the sea. She barely catches a glimpse of an unfamiliar figure swimming towards her before she completely blacks out.

-.-.-.-.-

"Fuck," Santana grabs the blonde's waist and pulls her to safety, away from all of the floating debris. She then swiftly presses her lips onto the land walker's, disregarding the possible consequences of her actions. She begins to breathe into the other girl's mouth, providing her with vital puffs of air. She sightlessly tears off the restricting dress, knowing that it was anchoring them down.

Santana feels a painful sensation shoot through her chest and her red tail begins to blindingly glow, she feels weak, but she soldiers on, freely relinquishing a part of her to the stranger. She feels an invisible cord wrap itself around their bodies, pulling them flush together and Santana's eyes roll back because of the pang of inexplicable pain.

She continues to breathe out though, the improving heartbeat of the body in her arms, encouraging her to go on.

The human's legs begin to gleam, getting brighter and brighter after every second that passes, a beautiful sea green fishtail eventually replaces long pale legs and the binding ceremony ends. Santana pulls back, raking her across the blonde's body, taking in every small detail. She tenderly holds the unconscious mermaid in her ams, tucking some golden strands behind her ear.

Rachel finds them after a while, the brunette's mouth agape and her eyes wide in shock. "What in Neptune's name did you do, Santana?"

Santana lifts her head and shrugs her shoulders, blinking a few times as a futile attempt to clear her frenzied mind.

_What did she just do?_

-.-.-.-.-

Quinn stirs, feeling a different sensation in her lower extremities. Her eyes fall open and she's met with the sight of an unfamiliar room, she opens her mouth and almost screams when a bubble shows up out of nowhere. She exhales through her nose, expelling tinier bubbles. "Don't worry, that's only happening because you still have some oxygen in your body."

Quinn tries to sit up, but she manages to just awkwardly float towards the ceiling. She looks down and sees that her chest is barely covered by a small fitted-cloth and that there's a fishtail where her legs are supposed to be. "What on Earth is going on?"

"Earth laws won't do you any good down here, _sunshine_," Santana moves closer, admiring the roused form of the woman that she's attentively been taking care of for the last three days. "Are you hurt?" She concernedly asks.

"No, I'm not, but can you please explain to me why I'm a- a—" Quinn stammers out, the words getting caught in her throat.

"Go ahead, you can say it," Santana urges her to continue, but the blonde clamps her mouth shut in utter disbelief. "A mermaid," she finishes for Quinn and the blonde feels her stomach plummet downwards because none of this could possibly be real— _no way_. "Long story short, I turned you into a mermaid because if I didn't… You would have died." Santana cringes because of the frightening memory.

"You turned me into a mermaid?" Quinn shakes her head in doubt. "No, that's impossible. First of all, mermaids aren't real," Santana feels sort of offended but she lets her continue, aware that the situation was overwhelming and difficult to take in. "Plus, if they were, which they _aren't_— I never heard of mermaids turning humans into mermaids," Quinn's head is spinning uncontrollably, everything was just so confusing and unbelievable. "It's either I'm dreaming or I'm dead."

"No— well, you were out for a couple of days, but you're definitely awake now…" Santana cups her cheek, appreciatively feeling the warmth of her skin. "And I'm glad to see that you got your color back despite how pastel it is, I'm really happy you're okay."

Quinn jerks away from the gentle touch, checking out her misplaced tail again— it was covered in small beautiful sea green scales that gleamed whenever they came in contact with light. She then flits her eyes to Santana's, which was a deep red color. "This can't be happening," she says in horror and slight awe, wiggling her fingers in front of her face and feeling the water flow through the spaces in between. "How do I fix this?"

Santana tries her best to ignore the feeling of rejection spreading through her body. "What do you mean by _'fix this'_?" Santana challengingly raises an eyebrow. "You do understand that if _this _didn't happen, you would be dead!" She retorts defensively. "You wouldn't be—"

"I never asked to be turned into a mermaid! I didn't want this!" Quinn spits back, interrupting her. "I want my legs back, just tell me how to—"

"Woah, hello there, you're finally awake," Rachel enters the room in a hurry, hearing the rage in Santana's voice all the way from down the hall. "My name is Rachel," she politely introduces herself and Quinn purses her lips before yielding and replying.

"I'm Quinn," Santana realizes that they didn't even know each other's names yet— she's been referring to her as _'sunshine'_ up until this point.

_Quinn… It suits her._

"It's nice to meet you, Quinn," Rachel replies in a friendly tone and Quinn slants her lips, studying the smaller girl's light purple tail… Everything looked so goddamn realistic, but none of this was real.

_Right?_

Mermaids aren't real.

"Can you please tell me how I can get out of here?" Quinn chokes out, feeling immensely lost and puzzled, she just wants the nightmare to stop already. Rachel gives Santana a pointed look and the princess just insouciantly shrugs, quickly growing tired of the situation.

"Whatever, you talk to her… This whole mess is fucking getting out of hand," Santana orders Rachel to explain everything before swimming towards the exit of her room. "I hate to admit it, but maybe you and my dad were right when you guys said that I'd regret turning her to a mermaid," she mumbles over her shoulder, leaving without sparing Quinn another glance.

"Santana—" Rachel calls out, but the other Atlantic creature doesn't return. She frustratedly groans before turning to face Quinn, sympathetically smiling at the distraught blonde.

"Who is she? Where are we?" Quinn questions, hoping that Rachel would be able to make sense of the strange world she found herself in. "Please tell me I'm just dreaming… This isn't possible, this can't be real…"

"I can't do that… You're wide awake and this is all very much _'real'_, Quinn," Rachel combs some of her brown hair away from her face. "And to answer your other questions, we're in the great underwater city of Atlantis and _that_, that was Santana Lopez, the princess of Atlantis and your _uh_— fiancé."

"My what?" Quinn's mouth falls open and she waits for Rachel to take it back, and tell her that she's only kidding, but the moment never comes. "Fiancé? What the—"

* * *

**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


	5. Eventually

**********Master AN: **I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

* * *

**Eventually** [M]

**Summary:** QW13 DAY05— Set after 'I do', Quinn visits New York and all hell breaks loose when she catches Santana with another girl.

**AN: **This is supposedly a GKM fill.

* * *

"_Fuck_," I fall back, colliding onto the soft pillow underneath me. I turn my head to the side, absentmindedly letting my eyes wander to the window while I try to stabilize my ragged breathing. I feel Santana shift under the covers until her face emerges, a pleased smirk fastened on her face. "Damn," I breathe out, shaking my head slightly, still stunned by the fact that I just had mind-blowing sex with Santana Lopez. She silently gets comfortable on the opposite side of the bed, smugly staring back at me with those brown eyes of hers. I exhale heavily, a small smile playing on my own lips. "So that's why college girls experiment…"

"And thank God they do," she lets out one of her signature throaty chuckles and I quickly cut in, well aware of how my body will react to her sexily raspy voice.

"You know it was fun and I've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman, but _uhh_ I don't know, I think for me it was more of a one-time thing." I try to ignore the way my statement sounded— as if I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince Santana.

"Look, you don't have to worry, I'm not going to show up at your house with a U-haul," she teases and I bite back a laugh.

"Mhm," I hum out, reaching out for the water bottle on the bedside and unscrewing it slowly. "So what happens next?" I ask before taking a long sip.

"Well, you could walk out first," she pauses while I replace the white plastic cap. "Or we can make it a two-time thing…" I try not to seem too eager, leisurely placing the bottle back onto the nightstand before making a '_come closer'_ gesture with two of my fingers. "You made the right choice, Fabray." She rips off the comforter covering my body and straddles my bare tummy, leaning forward to crash our lips together.

-.-.-.-.-

_How about a three-time thing or maybe a four-time…_

A lot changed between Santana and I after _that_ night in the hotel room, the blurry lines of our friendship disintegrated, leaving us to deal with each other with no restrictions at all. I started visiting the apartment in New York more often— almost every weekend, actually— and during these short visits of mine, Santana would remind me that I wasted so much of my young life pretending I was straight as a ruler.

Great sex solves _so many_ things.

I'm doing a lot better in Yale because of the fact that I'm not sexually frustrated anymore. It's easier to focus in class when you're not horny— _trust me_. Plus, sex with Santana is really different, I don't have to fake anything with her— I can just be myself.

And for the first time, I'm honestly enjoying having someone's hands all over my body. The moans of pleasure that escape my lips when I'm with her are all _real_…

I'm sure our new sex life is doing wonders for our friendship, I know we're pretty much just fuck buddies, but there _is_ a difference in the way we treat each other despite how unspectacular it is.

Things are better.

Okay, maybe we still don't talk about our feelings or anything that can make us seem _vulnerable_, but Santana and I have never been _those_ type of people anyway. It's completely fair that she doesn't know that recently there's been a feeling much stronger than disappointment flowing through my body during the times I have to cancel my New York trips for rational reasons... It's fine that she's unaware of the irritating butterflies that flutter around my stomach _every _time I'm on that goddamn train, on the way to see her.

Our arrangement is working perfectly… Why question it?

There's no need to complicate anything.

-.-.-.-.-

I debate with myself whether or not I should text Santana that I'm coming over, I know it's a Wednesday afternoon, but there's nothing due in school anytime soon and I just really want to see her.

She works the late shift today, which gives us at least a couple of hours to just… _You know. _I fight the ridiculous smile tugging on the corners of my mouth, choosing to ignore the way my heart rate sped up as soon as I saw the apartment door, I quickly rap my knuckles against it, keen to see Santana again.

"Quinn?" Kurt swings the door open, he furrows his eyebrows as soon as he sees me and I wonder what's wrong. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to surprise Santana," I shrug my shoulders, peeping my head inside. He steps to the side, letting me in. "Is she home? I know I should've _ca_—" The sound of his ringing phone cuts me off and he looks at me apologetically and I nod for him to take it.

"Hello? Yeah, I'm on my way. Yes, alright, I'll be there soon," Kurt pockets his phone, nervously eyeing Santana's door before sighing. "_Whatever_, you two deal with it, I just don't want to see any blood stains on any of my furniture when I get back, okay?" I tilt my head towards my shoulder in confusion and he waves a quick goodbye before basically running out of the front door.

_Weird._

I excitedly walk over to Santana's bedroom, I haven't _heard_ Rachel yet, which means we probably have the whole place to ourselves. "Surprise!" I swing the door open and my jaw drops, I see Santana spread on her bed, fully naked, with some brunette's head in between her legs. "What the fuck?" Her clenched eyes snap open and she squints at my direction, I feel fury gush through my veins, sending me into an incandescent state of absolute rage.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?" Santana sits up, reaching for a pillow to unnecessarily cover her body. She darts her eyes to the girl who was also scrambling to cover herself and I fucking lose it. "I can _ex_—"

"What the fuck are _you _doing?" I spit back, grabbing the nearest object, which thankfully for her is just some book I left here a couple of weeks ago. "What's your name?"

"Umm, Amber," she stammers out and I hurl the hardbound novel at her, she ducks at the last second and gapes at me incredulously— the corner of the book missing her forehead by a hair's breadth. "Are you insane?"

"No but you are if you thought coming here was a good idea," I throw another book, which doesn't miss, before striding towards her and forcefully snatch her light brown hair in my hands. I pull her off the bed to distance her from Santana, she starts screaming but her effort to free herself was futile. I cruelly drag her bare form across the floor, out to the living room and to the main door. "If you know what's good for you, you're never going to see Santana again or else—"

"Q, what the fuck?" Santana insistently tugs me away from Amber and tries to put herself in between us, a disbelieving look all over her features. I swiftly push her aside and usher Amber completely out of the apartment and slam the door in her face, not even sparing her another glance. "No, seriously, what the fuck is your—"

"Shut up," I pin Santana against the nearest bare wall, aware that she was still very much nude. "Do you _really_ need to bring home sub-par sluts, Santana?" I see her gulp, but her almost-black, dilated eyes tell me that's she's currently not only feeling fear. I lean in closer to arrogantly whisper into her ear. "But nothing feels as good as it does when you're with me though, huh? I know you so well, better than anyone else— better than anyone you'll ever meet."

"Quinn—"

"I told you to shut up," I pinch her chin using my thumb and pointer finger and press my forehead onto hers, I can tell she wants to kiss me by the way she's parting her lips, but I have no plans on making this easy for her. "Look at you right now, what do you want, S?"

It's Santana though and it's foolish to think that she'll submit to anyone easily— _even me_. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, but I'm not fucking interested," she tries to shove me off, but I know she's not using her full strength. "You can't just show up here unannounced and expect everything to go your way, _princess_. That's not how the real world works."

I chuckle airily, of course she _has_ _to_ make this even more difficult. I grip her right elbow and haul her back into the bedroom, disregarding her half-hearted petitions for me to let her go. I wordlessly lead her inside the bathroom, shoving her into the shower and promptly turning on the spray. "We need to get you cleaned up, God only knows what germs your whores carry," she looks offended, but I don't give her time to retort. I join her under the water, only pausing to remove my shoes, not giving a damn about the rest of the clothes I was wearing. I take the bottle of liquid soap and squeeze out an ample amount onto my palms, rubbing the white foam onto her caramel skin.

She grips my shoulders with both of her hands— backing into the wall for support— when I start paying attention to her chest, grazing her nipples and smearing suds in between the valley of her breasts. "Oh, shit—" She closes her eyes and I smirk while moving my hands south, gently kneading her sides and her taut stomach. "Quinn," she moans out, dropping her head backwards onto the tiled wall with a thump when I brush over her center, proceeding to the insides of her thighs. I roughly squeeze the tender flesh, meriting a sexy whimper from Santana. "Please?"

I've never heard Santana sound like _this— _so desperate, so needy. "Mmm?" I hum out, sliding my soapy hands down her long flawless legs. By this time, my wet clothes were uncomfortably clinging to my skin. "What do you want?" I snicker, enjoying the fact that she was already squirming despite the fact I was avoiding the places she needed me to touch the most.

Santana growls before reaching for the collar of the button-up shirt I'm wearing, she tears the material apart— sending a flurry of buttons everywhere. "I—" She kisses my neck, reaching for the clasp of my bra. "Want—" She slides the top and my bra off of my shoulders, unceremoniously dropping the garments onto the shower floor. "You." She huskily finishes, nipping at my neck and palming my boobs.

I pull her head back so I can stare into her pupils, her mouth is slightly agape, uneven puffs of air escaping her plump lips. "You want me?" She nods furiously, trying to capture my lips for a desperate kiss, but I kept dodging her attempts— keeping her firmly fastened against the wall by her shoulders. "Do you want to kiss me?" I ask in a sultry tone, nudging my nose against hers.

"Quinn, please," she sneakily grabs my ass, frustratedly clutching onto it and drawing me even closer to her. "I need you, babe," I can't say no— not when she has _this _look on her face that says so much more than any plea can. I smash our lips together, swallowing her gasp and hastily delving my tongue into her mouth. I forcefully kiss her, sinking my teeth into her bottom lip and tugging on it. Her grasp on my butt tightens as she tries to fight for dominance, but I don't let up, compelling her to surrender and give me total control.

I break the kiss, reaching for a loofah and the bottle of body wash, I squirt the fruit-scented fluid onto the bath sponge and begin to lovingly yet determinedly scrub her body. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you," I softly grumble into her ear before taking her earlobe in between my teeth, continuing my mission to abolish all remnants of her earlier tryst with Amanda or whatever the other girl's name was. I leisurely cleaned her off afterwards, making sure to wash off all of the leftover lather while pressing as many lingering kisses onto her skin as possible.

I drop the used objects before locking my arms behind Santana's lower back and pulling her in for another savage kiss, full of tongue and teeth, she somehow manages to wrap her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck— leaning against the wall for a bit of stability. I hold onto her tightly, trying to keep us both upright. "You're so hot," Santana husks out, trailing kisses and love bites down my neck. My calves started to burn and I realized I needed to get us on a bed— _now._

I carelessly guide us out of the shower without bothering to deal with the running tap, blindly carrying Santana back to her room and ungracefully depositing her onto the bed. I impatiently shimmy down my shorts, ripping off my soaked underwear right after and leaving my body completely naked for her piercing brown eyes.

"Look at you," I say lowly, greedily memorizing how delicious she looked— how her wet, tanned skin gleamed under the room's lighting. "You didn't look like this while _what's-her-face_ was in here… What's the matter, S?" I kneel down on the edge of the bed before crawling towards her. "What do you want?" I hover over her, positioning myself in a way that one of my thighs were in between her legs.

She cants her hips upwards, but I'm too far for her to feel any sort of relief. "Ugh, I already told you that _I want you_," I feel her ankles press on my ass, trying to force me to close the distance and give her friction but I resist. She then tries to flip us over and start the show— I let out a small laugh at her adorable yet futile attempts. "Fucking _A_, Quinn just do something already." She starts reaching for me again so I decide to pin both of her hands above her head using my right one.

I press my lips onto her left temple before licking a path towards the shell of her ear. "Tell me why I should give you what you're asking for," I growl out, the long moan she releases afterwards surprises us both. "Do you really deserve it? You did have some bimbo in here a while ago…" I nip at the area below her ear, knowing it's one of her weak spots. "I don't really see the point in taking care of things that don't belong to me," I abruptly press my knee onto her thrumming core causing her to buck upwards.

"_I'm yours,_" she pants out, shaking off my grip and threading her slender fingers into my blonde locks. "Come on, Quinn, no more teasing. I get it already, alright?" She struggles out, locking her eyes onto mine. "I'm sorry for fucking around with other people," she whispers out almost incoherently before turning away.

"What was that?" I ask cheekily, feeling giddy because of Santana's apology, which is basically an indirect admission that I'm right _and_ she's mine. "Hmm?"

"Don't push it," she narrows her eyes at me and I smirk knowingly. I peck her lips and wink before grinding into her, purposely dragging my thigh across her wet center over and over again. I continue to roll my hips until her head was tossing and turning underneath me and she was meeting my thrusts in an attempt to hurry her release. "I need more, touch me— _please_."

Her uncharacteristic begging was making my insides clench with desire. My breathing becomes more shallow and I rest my hands on top of her breasts, ravenously working on the soft mounds and perky nipples. "You're so beautiful," I move my mouth onto her neck and scrape my teeth across the sensitive skin, marking her to let everyone know that she's _mine_. I begin to undauntedly suck, to leave as many noticeable hickeys as possible without stopping my hips' movement and my hands' ministrations.

Her eyelids fall close and her mouth opens, she wraps herself around my leg between her thighs and begins to move at an animalistic pace, clawing her nails down my back as she came undone. "Oh my_,_ _fuck_—"Santana arches her back, momentarily lifting both of our bodies off of the bed before she seemingly melts and freezes at the same time. I smirk when I see just how unfocused her eyes were— the tiny uncontrollable spasms that kept shooting through her, making me grit my teeth in insatiable lust.

"You're so _so _pretty when you come," I sloppily kiss her cheek before moving my lips downwards and taking one of her nipples into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the pointy nub without delay. I pull back with a popping noise, looking up to see Santana staring at me through glazed and hooded eyes. "Can anyone else make you feel like this?" I ask even if I already know the answer, she weakly shakes her head and I smile before paying her chest sufficient attention— gently grazing my teeth against the delicate area and soothing it with mild licks right after.

I trace my tongue down her abs and she props herself up using her hands to get a better view of what I was doing. "Quinn—" She moans out breathlessly when I nuzzle the skin covering her pubic bone, appreciating the neat strip of hair. "You need to fucking stop with the teasing," she sighs out, shaking in anticipation.

"It's all about the teasing, remember?" I sweep over her glistening sex, heading straight to the insides of her thighs, I begin to nibble on the soft flesh causing her to squash my head with her thighs. I chuckle at the satisfying sound of her back meeting the mattress again when I press an unexpected kiss onto her slit. "But I think this time I'm willing to make an exception," I run my tongue along her entire length, impelling her to bury her fingers into my hair and force me in deeper. "Tell me what to do."

"Just make me come," Santana whimpers out, stifling her noises by biting her wrist. "Mmm _God_—" I wrap my lips around her clit, sucking on and encircling it. "Ugh, yes just like that, _shit_."

"Are you like _this_ with other girls?" I easily poke my tongue into her eager entrance. "Can they make you feel like _this_?" I push in deeper, my eyes rolling into the back of my head when I feel her inner walls contract around my tongue. When she doesn't say anything, I draw my face back, completely ignoring her frustrated protests. "I want you to answer me, S."

"No one makes me feel the way you do," she mumbles out quietly when we make eye-contact. "I mean it, Quinn."

"Are you mine?" She nods, stating the word '_yours' _in reply. I wink before thrusting two digits into her in one quick motion, loving the way she tightly choked my fingers. "No more other girls, right?" She absentmindedly shakes her head and I quicken the pace, curling my fingers and hitting the spot that makes her jerk. I lick a path up her moist folds, ultimately settling my tongue back on her clit and causing her to keen loudly.

"Yes!" She screams out as I continue to plunge my fingers in and out of her hot core while expertly moving my tongue. "No one else, just you, oh _fu_—" I feel her lock her ankles against my back, forcing me to press my face flush against her sex, drowning me in everything that was _her_. I simultaneously curve my fingers and skim my teeth over her clit, making her wildly convulse under me, yelling out bilingual profanities— coating my fingers and flooding my tongue with her wetness.

_Yum. _I clean Santana up slowly, taking my sweet time and keeping my fingers inside her. I grin at her when our eyes connect— her dilated pupils and hooded eyelids, telling me everything that I needed to know about my earlier performance.

I kiss a track up her body, letting her down slowly with soft rhythmic prodding. She groans when I pull out completely, but I silence it with an aggressive kiss to her mouth. She tries to top me again, but I shake my head, a lazy smile across my lips. "_Later_, we're both too tired," she opens her mouth to object and I capture her lips with mine again. "Nap time."

She drops her shoulders in defeat. "Fine, but I owe you."

"Well, as of today, you're not allowed to even _think _about fucking another girl so you have a lot of time to make it up to me," I position her on her side and assume the role of being the big spoon, splaying a leg over her waist, pressing my face into her hair and leaving a quick kiss on her nape. I hear her let out a breathy chuckle and I smile before snuggling even closer.

"You're lucky that I actually find your jealousy hot."

"Shh, sleep."

-.-.-.-.-

"Hi," I yawn out when I see Santana through the darkness, the only light in the room was coming from the screen of her phone. "How long have you been up?" I ask, noting that one of my arms were still draped over her tummy.

"Hey there, umm not that long," she shrugs, locking her phone and dropping it onto the bed spread. "I texted my boss that I couldn't make it in tonight then I don't know, I just couldn't fall back asleep." I sleepily rub my eyes with one hand while stretching my other arm. "That was quite a work out for you, huh?"

"What?" I crease my forehead because of the teasing intonation she used.

"You know, acting all possessive by treating me like some pair of dirty socks that you needed to thoroughly disinfect before proceeding to fuck my brains out." She chuckles smugly and I feel all my blood rush up to my cheeks as the recent images raced back. "I didn't know you had all of that in you, Fabray."

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it," I embarrassedly cover my overheating face with my palms. "And never compare yourself to dirty socks again... _G__ross_."

"It is what it is," she sits up, turning on the beside lamp and illuminating the room with a light orange glow. I let my eyes wander throughout the expanse of her exposed skin, immediately feeling dampness pool in the apex of my thighs. "My turn to take care of you." She pushes my shoulders until I'm lying flat on my back.

Her lips were about to come in contact with my neck when the sound of knocking fills the room, quickly followed by Rachel's familiar voice. "Santana?" I huff, impatiently exhaling through my nose because of the unwanted interruption. "Why is there a girl crying outside our door, begging for her clothes and phone back? It's New York, please don't tell me you just threw her—"

"I didn't do anything!" Santana yells out before the blame can be placed on her. "You should talk to Quinn," she snorts, hopping out of bed and collecting the other girl's scattered belongings and putting on a robe. She opens the door a fraction and hands Rachel the stuff. "Can you give these to her? And tell her I'm sorry that my girlfriend's extremely possessive and jealous."

"Wait, what do you mean— _girlfriend_?"

"Night, Rach, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Oh and make sure there's enough coffee for everyone in the morning, Quinn's sleeping over, feel free to make her feel gut-wrenching guilt when you see her." With that, she closes the door, ignoring Rachel's extremely confused expression. "Now, where were we?"

"Girlfriend?"

"We've been sleeping together since the wedding and you made it clear a while ago that I'm not allowed to even _look _at anyone else so I'm assuming that's what we are or at least what we _will _be in the near future… Like eventually? I mean, unless—"

"I'd like that," I tell her earnestly, cutting off the rest of the statement and gesturing for her to come closer. "It won't be easy though, I still have a couple years to go in Yale so I can't be here with you all the time." She nods, showing that she understood the stipulations. "You sure you want to try this?"

"I already said I'm yours, right?" I bob my head up and down, grinning widely. She leans forward and kisses me deeply, luring my tongue into her mouth and making me moan for more. I begin to slip off her robe and she breaks the kiss. "Uh-uh, it's my turn to be on top, Fabray."

* * *

**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


	6. Daylight

******Master AN: **I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

* * *

**Daylight** [M]

**Summary:** QW13 DAY06— Santana and Quinn have been in a relationship for almost two years, but things get complicated when Santana's secret past resurfaces.

**AN: **Character death later on.

* * *

"Santana!" Quinn screams from the passenger's seat. You abruptly swerve to the right lane, narrowly missing another lethal spray of bullets from the black SUVs chasing your car.

"Hmm?" You hum out, your eyes darting to your girlfriend for a second before you fix them back on the road. You forcefully spin the steering wheel all the way and floor the gas pedal before turning to your left to face Quinn. "Take a deep breath on 3, okay?" You reach for the buckle of her seatbelt and unfasten it, stretching your top half over the center console to wrap your arms around her and the car seat. "3, 2, 1— inhale!"

The car flies off the dock, sending you both into the air and ultimately into the river. You react instantly, forcing your door open before helping Quinn out of the sinking vehicle. You lead her to the underside of the dock, where you two can emerge without any goons seeing. You push her up first, knowing your trained lungs were a lot stronger than hers. She breaks through the water with a desperate gasp, swallowing gulps of oxygen as fast as she can.

You worry your lip, soothingly rubbing a palm up and down her wet back. You try to pull her closer so you can a press a loving kiss onto her temple, but she shoves you off, sending a splash of cold water onto your face. "Babe, I'm sorry, just let me _ex_—"

"No, shut up!" Quinn demands and you purse your lips, feeling anxiety build up in your lower abdomen. "I asked you to explain the first time random men started shooting at us!" She pokes you hard on the shoulder and you visibly flinch. "I asked you to explain when the first car you stole crashed!" She jabs you again, making sure to bury her nail into the wet material of your top. "I asked you to explain right after you shot someone!"

"Quinn, babe—"

"Don't _'babe'_ me, I don't even know you," she scrunches her face up and you cringe because her words hurt so much more than the bullet gash on your forearm from earlier. "I don't know you," she repeats, wiping droplets of water down her face and sighing heavily.

"You know me," you argue resolutely, trying to hold her hands, but she snatches them away. "Quinn, it's still me…" Your voice sounds so small, you barely recognize it. "I'm still your girlfriend and I still love you, nothing's different."

She starts to shake her head and a lump forms in your throat. "San—"

"Hey," you sneakily grab her waist, gripping tight enough so she can't pull away. "You're scaring me, Q," you whisper out and she stops squirming, you brush a couple wet strands of blonde hair behind her ear and she looks away. You feel like you're about to have a heart attack, you're not used to Quinn acting like this and it's frankly tearing you apart.

"I fell in love with Santana Lopez the bartender, not Santana Lopez the secret agent," your arms fall limp at your sides and she turns away. "I just— I don't know anymore, okay?"

"What do you mean you don't know? I'll tell you everything you need to know," you raise your voice, feeling antsier and antsier by the second. "I love you and you love me, and _this_—" You pull out a black pistol from the waistband of your jeans, carelessly tossing it behind you. "Isn't my life anymore… You're my life, Q," your eyes are begging her to believe you, but she still won't meet your gaze and it's agitating you immensely.

You love her more than anything in this fucked up world and you just _can't _lose her— no. She's the one person that can make you _feel _like you're actually alive, the one person that can make you feel like you're human.

Quinn taught your heart how to beat.

After years of ruthless training— years of being a mere pawn of powerful agencies that tell you what to steal, who to kill. You learned how to feel, how to trust, how to love… And it's all thanks to Quinn. So _fuck no_, you can't lose her.

"Santana, you know I love you, but—"

"Saying the word _'but' _after you tell someone you love them is never a good sign," you float backwards a little, the air was getting too thick and you needed a bit more space to breathe. The dark water's temperature was nothing compared to how cold the blood flowing through your veins felt… "Why does it sound like you're about to break up with me?"

"San," her voice cracks and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip because you don't want to look weak so you refuse to let the tears show. While growing up, you were trained to endure hours of torture, but nothing in hell could've prepared you for _this_. "It won't work between us," she utters out brokenly, her eyelids twitch as tears began to stain her pale cheeks.

"Why not? I'm still me, Quinn," you frustratedly clench your fists underwater because in your head, her argument is completely flawed— the only thing that really matters to you is that you love each other. And you'll _always _love Quinn.

"You kept all of this from me!" She says in an angrier tone as her tears continue to pour out, mixing with the fresh water below. "How do you expect us to be together if I don't know even know if I can trust you?"

"I never directly lied to you, I just kept a couple of things secret to protect you, okay?" A gust of wind rushes through your wet bodies, making Quinn uncontrollably shiver. The words die on your tongue at the sight and you decide that it's time to get your girlfriend out of the water. "We'll talk about this later, alright? We both need to get out of here."

She parts her lips to argue, but you flash her a pleading look and she reluctantly nods her head. You guide her out of the water and into another parked car that you expertly hot-wired. Choosing to ignore the fact that she won't let you touch her at all— not even allowing you to simply hold her hand.

As an active field agent, you were forced to deal with numerous injuries, but this kind of pain is different.

_This is the kind of pain that you don't think you can handle._

-.-.-.-.-

"Britt, I already told you… I don't know anything," You pinch the bridge of your nose using the hand that wasn't holding your phone up to your ear. "I was having lunch with Quinn and a bunch of thugs showed up out of nowhere."

"_Is Quinn okay?"_

"You know I'd never let anything happen to her," you glance at the bathroom door, frowning because of the fact that it's closed. "I need to fix this mess as soon as possible."

"_I'll try my best to help you, San."_

"Thank you," you tell her sincerely— Brittany Pierce is the only _real_ friend you made in the agency, you couldn't just cut her out of your life when you decided to quit and you're glad you didn't. "I don't understand why this is all happening now… It's been two years since I left."

"_It doesn't make sense to me either…"_

"I've been laying low since—" You hear Quinn shut off the shower and sigh through your nose. "B, I need to go, please let me know if you find anything."

"_Yeah, of course. Take care of yourself and Quinn, alright?" _You bid Brittany a proper goodbye before ending the call and letting your cellphone fall onto the bed. The creaky door swings open and Quinn comes out wearing the random gray USA sweatshirt that you bought her from a nearby souvenir store. She's still drying her hair with a white towel and her eyes are darting around the small motel room, landing on everything but your face.

"Hey," you mumble out— you just really want her to look at you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. All the uncertainty surrounding your once-solid relationship makes you want to vomit. "Quinn, I'm sorry," you get up from the bed, walking towards her because you _need_ to get closer.

She steps backwards and you feel a piece of your heart chip off… Your skin is crawling because there's fear in her hazel eyes— _she's scared of you_. You open and close your mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with something of value, but you're choking on air and your tongue refuses to cooperate. "I'm tired," she whispers out, unceremoniously dropping the towel onto the wooden floor and settling down on the bed.

"Quinn—"

"I'm too tired to talk, S," she covers her face with a pillow and you feel like you're being locked outside your own house. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"Alright," you hesitantly nod even if she can't see you. You turn around, about to make your way inside the en-suite bathroom for your shower when the question burning in your throat decides to spurt out. "We're still together, right?"

"We'll talk tomorrow." Quinn repeats, it's muffled but you hear it loud and clear— the three words relentlessly resonating in your ears and submerging you into a pool of anxiety.

You bite your wrist while you're under the shower, hoping that doing so will soften the sound of the sobs racking through your body.

_Rule #1— it's okay to look weak when you're alone._

-.-.-.-.-

It's been an hour since you left the motel, an hour on the road, an hour of excruciating silence.

You keep side glancing at Quinn, but her eyes are blankly fixed on the windshield. You tried talking to her, _you really did_, but a conversation can only go so far when the other person refuses to use real words— just gestures and humming sounds.

"Are you hungry?" She shakes her head and you clench you jaw because you're getting sick and tired of the silent treatment. You'd actually prefer it if she was getting mad at you— at least she'd be talking to you. _At least you'd know what was going on in her mind… _"Quinn, please."

"Please what?" She asks, _finally_ turning to face you.

"Stop shutting me out," you sigh audibly. "I think we should talk now… It's going to be a while until we get to Seattle."

"Okay…" She says in a tone that you can't read at all.

"First of all—"

"I think we should break up," she cuts you off and you're so surprised that you almost crash into the car in front of you. You slow down, stopping at the side of the road so you can give Quinn your full attention. You lock the hand brake and stare at her, wordlessly asking her to explain. "There's too much going on and I don't know— I think we need a break or something."

"_We?_ I don't need a break, Quinn," you vehemently shake your head. "I quit being an agent the day after I met you— the day after I asked you out… Come on, we've been doing fine the past two years, just let me fix this and everything will go back to normal, I promise," you croak out, almost pathetically. It feels like you're in a game of tug-of-war, but instead of a rope you're playing with your heartstrings.

"I don't know if I can—" She dry swallows and you hold your breath, actually _praying_ that she'll just take everything back and laugh it off. Well, it's not a funny joke, but you'd prefer horrible humour over losing her— you'd prefer _anything_ over losing her. "I don't know if I can still be with you," she chokes out and you feel your chest cave it on itself.

It feels like someone just threw a pail of ice-cold water over your head and you're not sure how to react.

You don't know what to do.

"P-please don't," you shakily appeal, both your fists firmly clenched around the steering wheel as you try your best not to break down. "I'll fix it— I promise I will, we don't need to break up."

"Santana, you're a _secret agent_ and up until a few days ago, I didn't know people _like you_ actually existed," she looks down onto her lap and you quickly miss the view of her eyes. "I don't think I can live this way, I'm so damn tired and it's only been two days."

"You won't have to live like this… Nothing like this will ever happen again, I fucking swear," your eyes are tearing up and everything is becoming blurry and you feel like you're suffocating. "I'll get rid of the problem then it'll be me and you again— just don't give up on us, please."

"I'm sorry—" She buries her face into her palms, her shoulders rapidly rising and falling as her tears begin to cascade downwards. "I love you but I'm _scared_, San."

Whatever argument you had in your arsenal disappears… It's going to pretty much kill you, but you're going to give her what she wants— you're going to let her go.

You're going to let her go because it's the right thing to do. She doesn't deserve to be put in constant danger, just because she's _your _girlfriend. _She doesn't deserve to feel scared… _You're a fucking idiot for naively thinking that your past will never catch up to you. "Okay," you mask your face with a stoic expression, restarting the engine and veering back into the main road.

"Okay?"

"We're over then," you shrug your shoulders, keeping your voice void of any emotion. "After I ensure your safety, I'll disappear for good."

"Santana, that's not what I want!"

"Well, I don't want to break up with you," you spit back immaturely before taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. "I can't risk your life anymore, Q…" You continue in a softer tone. "I thought I could somehow run away from all this shit, turns out I can't though," you brush the back of your hand over your eyes and sigh deeply.

"San—"

"I'll get you home safely as soon as possible," you promise dismissively, you just want this conversation to be over already because _fuck_ there's a limit to the amount of pain you can handle.

And you're already _way_ past that limit…

So you increase the volume of the music playing, preventing further discussion and drowning out your own miserable thoughts.

-.-.-.-.-

"Rachel Berry as in Leroy and Hiram's daughter?" You clarify and Brittany nods, you turn around to kick the brick wall and vent out some of your anger— _what the fuck_. Quinn's obviously confused beside you, but after your break up this morning— you discovered that it's easier to see _through _her than to actually see her so you promptly direct your focus back to Brittany. "How did you find out?"

"The pictures of the ammo you sent me, the bullets had tiny stars engraved on them that were only noticeable when magnified," she shrugs and you roll your eyes— _typical_. "A gold star is like Rachel's signature, right?"

"Yeah, don't remind me," you feel like gagging, a rush of memories with the short brunette filling your unwilling head. "What the fuck does she want with me though?"

"I'm not sure," Brittany sighs out, giving Quinn a small reassuring smile. You wonder what Quinn is thinking, but you can't even look at her so talking to her is simply out of the question. "You two ended in good terms, right?"

You scoff, vividly remembering the way Rachel screamed and threw things at you when she found out the truth. "Britt, I told her that her dads hired me to fake-date her for 6 months… It was far from _good_," you tell her while grimacing. "I don't understand why she's doing all of this _now _though— and how the hell did she find me?"

"I don't know, San," Brittany frowns, averting her eyes to the ground. You squeeze her shoulder to make her look up though. "I wish I could be more help, but—"

"Britt, you've done more than enough," you grin at her, pulling her in for a friendly hug. "I'd be clueless if I didn't have you," you gratefully say to her. She breaks the embrace before you're ready and flits her eyes to your side, glancing at Quinn before speaking.

"I'm your _best friend_, it's my job to make sure no one kills you, remember?" She chuckles and you laugh along— Brittany was really you're partner-in-crime. "What do you plan on doing now?"

"Well, I'll get Quinn home first, then I'll deal with Rachel," the five-letter-name feels so dense on your tongue, you're actually struggling to keep your face straight. You finally chance a glimpse on the blonde that will always have your heart, seeing an upset look all over her features. You want to kiss it away, but you lost _that _privilege this morning so you just swallow thickly and try your best to ignore the magnetic force between your bodies.

"Do you need back up or something?"

"It's okay, I'm sure you're busy, Britt," you thankfully smile at her but shake your head. "It's just Rachel Berry anyway, I can handle it," you nonchalantly shrug. It's _just_ Rachel— you'll be fine, and it's not like you have anything left to live for now that you're painfully single… _Too dramatic? _Whatever, it's the truth.

Once you lose Quinn for good, you'll be a robot— utterly lifeless. Maybe you should rejoin the agency… Yeah, it was a pain-in-the-ass to quit, but you don't think you have a heart anymore and that's an advantage in the merciless world of violence, murder and deceit.

_You'll think about it._

"Err, I have to go, my tracker says that my target finally left the hotel," she gives you a quick hug before warmly waving at Quinn. "Don't hesitate to call if you need my help or something," you nod and she skips off, leaving you all alone with Quinn in some narrow alleyway.

"San—" She's looking at you in a way that makes you want to hold her in your arms and iron out all her worries. You're _craving_ to feel her flawless vanilla skin against yours. You're craving for the taste of her lips, her tongue, her teeth. You're craving for _Quinn_, _so_ fucking badly.

But…

You can't just grab her and kiss her until you both can't breathe anymore. You can't just bury your face into her neck and drink in the only scent in the world that can drive you nuts and calm you down at the same time. You can't just touch her even if you gravely want to.

"Let's get you home?" You flash her the best smile you could muster before stuffing your cold hands in the large pocket of your hoodie and walking back to the car. You wish it were Quinn's hands warming yours, but apparently life fucking sucks and wishes rarely come true.

Game Plan: Airport— New Haven— Kill Rachel

_Life is a whole lot simpler when you break everything down into 3-point plans… _

-.-.-.-.-

Almost half a day later, you're finally back in Connecticut to drop Quinn off in your apartment— well, _her _apartment now. The entire flight going here was awkward, uncomfortable and downright painful. You just really wanted to rest your head on her shoulder or hold her hand or even just brush elbows with her— you never imagined there could be _that _much distance in between two airplane seats.

You enter your bedroom, taking out a large duffel from the closet and stuffing necessities inside— clothes, an old gun, money. You sling the black bag onto your shoulder, you were just about to walk out when a framed photo of you and Quinn catches your eye. You smile remembering the day it was taken— there was a carnival in town and you won her this ridiculously humongous, stuffed-lion.

It was one of the best days of your life.

You pick up the frame, studying the huge smiles on both of your faces. You're not sure when the fact that things are over between you two is going to sink in— it probably never will because judging by the look on your face in the picture, no one else can make you feel the way that she does.

"Hey," Quinn lowly whispers from the doorway and you turn around, giving her a tightlipped smile.

"Can I have this?" You lift up your hand, showing her the glass frame. "You get to keep Zedd anyway," you motion towards the plush toy on top of the bed. "But take care of him cause I might sue for custody if you don't," you lightheartedly joke, clutching the frame even tighter.

You don't want to let go.

"Yeah, sure," she shrugs her shoulders, slowly decreasing the space between you two until she's right in front of you. "San, we should talk…"

"I don't think there's anything left to talk about," you carefully put the frame in your bag, stuffing it in between your clothes. "I should go."

You try to brush past her, but she grabs your wrist and your eyes shut close because you've been yearning for _any_ form of physical contact with her since yesterday. "It's late, you don't have to, you can—"

"I can't stay here, Quinn," you shake off her hand even if your body is yelling at you not to. "I have to go," you begin to make your way to the front door, but she wraps her arms around you from behind, locking her hands against your tummy. You silently groan, melting into the embrace before you can stop yourself. "What are you _doing_?" You gasp out, a wave of unbearable confusion washing over you.

"Stay the night," she whispers into your ear and you open your mouth to say you can't but she presses a light kiss onto the side of your neck and you lose your ability to speak. "We can have tonight," you feel a drop of moisture fall onto your skin and you bite the inside of your cheek because it literally hurts you whenever Quinn cries. "Don't leave me yet…"

You're human, your self-control is finite and there's just no way you can say no to her right now.

So you turn around in her arms, cupping her chin so you could look into her teary hazel eyes. You gently swipe a thumb over her bottom eyelids, sweeping away the salty tears. "If I had a choice, I'd _never _leave you," she looks like she wants to say something, but you're so damn sick of talking— words hurt. You crash your lips onto hers, dropping your hands onto her lower back so you could pull her squarely against you.

She wraps her arms around your neck and you blindly lift her onto the small square dining table to your left. You desperately part her lips with your tongue, seeking comfort in the way she tastes. You draw her into your mouth, memorizing the different sensations, gathering fuel for your imagination when you inevitably part ways.

You want to accurately remember _everything_ about Quinn…

The way she clenches her fists whenever she's turned on, the way she sometimes opens her eyes mid-kiss, the way she scuffs your front teeth with her tongue when you make out, the way she nibbles on your lower lip just to drive you crazy.

Everything.

You scramble to get rid of her clothes, ripping the long-sleeved top over her head and slipping off her bra in a matter of seconds. The sight of her bare chest, her stiff perfectly-pink nipples— makes your knees buckle and you plant your palms onto the table for balance, kissing her until the lack of oxygen forces you to stop.

You think lethal asphyxiation by Quinn's lips would be a good way to die, but you still need to make her come so… _No._

You trail your fingertips inch by inch, up ivory skin. You feel her different muscles contract under your touch and the whole situation is burning you in the best damn way possible. If you only have tonight left, you're going to make it count, you're going to engrave yourself into her skin.

You're going to make it impossible for her to forget you.

It's _okay_ though because the love you shared is the kind of love that isn't meant to be forgotten or erased.

Your hands finally reach their destination and you squeeze her breasts, your name falling from her lips. You let her nipples slide in between your fingers and her head falls back so you take the opportunity to nip at and suck on her exposed throat. You make sure to lovingly kiss every mark you make though— they aren't meant to be possessive anyway.

She's not yours anymore.

"San, I need _fuck_—" You knead the soft flesh in your hands and she lets out an irresistible moan. You swallow her broken request with a hard kiss— you already know what she needs and you plan on delivering. "Oh my God," you keep one hand on her chest, working on the sensitive flesh, while your free hand starts to work on the button and the zipper of her shorts.

You slide the denim material down her long legs, letting it fall onto the hardwood floor. You kiss her cheek, keeping your lips pressed onto her skin while you slowly remove her soaked panties. You hear her breath hitch when they come off and the pads of your fingers finally come in contact with her heated sex.

Her wetness sends an explosion of arousal to your very core and you start to determinedly move your fingers. You glide them up and down her folds, smearing her juices all over her beautiful chalk skin. You look up before you enter her, she's staring at you through dark, moist eyes and it feels like there's a silent conversation going on between the two of you.

You're both waiting— hearts beating rapidly as your fingers circle her entrance.

You bite your tongue because you've always been a soldier and your innate discipline is strong enough to hold back the _three_ words playing on your lips. Quinn is a civilian though and she whispers them out while two of your fingers slowly disappear inside her. You try to look away when you find a rhythm, distracting yourself by pressing unfocused kisses all over her collarbone, but she cups your cheek, stopping your lips and eyes from wandering.

She curves her back so she could kiss you and you relent, allowing her to submerge you in an inexplicable mixture of ecstasy and angst. You feel her walls clench whenever you pull out, as if they were trying to keep you two connected. "I love you so much," the confession plummets out of your mouth, breaking down your resolve completely. "So fucking much, Quinn," you start thrusting faster, angling your movements so you can hit the spot that makes her buck up into you.

"I love you too," she whimpers, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you in closer. It's harder to move your wrist, but it's fine because Quinn's body is flush against your clothed skin and she's panting heavily against your lips. You feel her orgasm approaching so you speed up your prodding, lifting her as far away from the ground as possible.

She screams out your name when she comes, convulsing around your digits and shaking underneath you. You hold her tightly with your free arm to keep her anchored, whispering words of affection against her skin. Her chest is still heaving uncontrollably when she reenters the real world, you tenderly pull out before silently falling to your knees.

Once you're at eye-level with beautifully swollen pink skin, you tug her towards you so only a fraction of her ass is resting on the small table. You gaze upwards and catch her watching you through tired eyes. You poke your tongue out of your moth and lick downwards the entire length of her slit, greedily lapping up the remnants of her orgasm. You press your lips all over her center before tracing her clit and sucking on it.

She tries to push your head away because she's probably still sensitive, but you don't let up. You continue to move your tongue until she falls backwards, giving up the fight. You relish in the unique flavor coating your tongue, allowing it to set your taste buds on fire.

You make her come again and she threads her fingers into your hair, pushing your face deeper. You feel sticky liquid rush out of her and you start to wildly flit your tongue up and down. You carry her exhausted body to the bedroom afterwards, loving the way she mindlessly clung onto you— her body just knew how to naturally react to yours.

You were about to slip out of the bed when she catches your forearm. "We've got tonight, remember?" You dumbly nod as she tugs you back towards her and proceeds to rid you of your clothes. You give her your body, allowing her to have her way with you— completely surrendering yourself to her.

Hours of intense lovemaking passes and you feel like you're floating deep in space, your throat hurts from all the screaming and all your muscles are sore. Quinn snuggles closer to you though and everything else fades; the problems, the heartache, the pain— everything momentarily disappears as the girl you love more than anything falls asleep in your arms. You allow your own eyes to droop close too, breathing in deeply while pressing soft, blind kisses onto her face.

You sneak out later on, when you're absolutely sure that she won't feel you leave.

_It's daylight and you have to go. _

Tears run down your cheeks as you widen the gap between yourself and your soul mate.

-.-.-.-.-

**Quinn Fabray  
**_mobile_

You stare at your phone, letting it ring in your hands. You shouldn't answer— you're not good for her. You were being selfish when you thought you could be with her, when you thought people _like you_ could actually fall in love and be happy. It stops ringing and you exaggeratedly sigh— it's been less than a day and you already feel like you're slowly dying.

You try to convince yourself that you'll be okay because you're essentially enduring all of this to make sure Quinn's safe.

You try to convince yourself that you're doing the right thing even if it feel so fucking wrong.

_**Quinn Fabray: **__You should probably answer.._㈳3㇩5

The blood in your face empties out when you see the star emoji on your screen. _Fuck. _You don't even wait for her to call again, you dial you ex-girlfriend's number, praying that you're wrong.

"_Santana!"_

"Shit," you curse quietly, combing a hand through your hair. "Rachel?"

"_It's been so long… How are you?"_ You tauten your grip around your phone because this isn't the time for pleasantries. She has Quinn though so you can't verbally lash out even if you want to rip Berry's head off with your bare hands.

"I'm okay… You?" You play along, clenching your jaw out of incandescent anger. "Rach, where are you?"

"_Better question is— who am I with?" _Unintelligible noise fills the line and your bones freeze when you hear Quinn's voice. _"S, don't co—" _More shuffling and you punch the nearest wall. _"Sorry about that, but I guess you already know who else is here…"_

"Rachel, where are you?" You grit out, examining your bloody knuckles and imagining you just hit Rachel's face.

"_I'll text you an address, make sure you're there in an hour, okay?"_

"Yeah, alright," you say offhandedly, ending the call and placing your phone down onto the coffee table in front of you. You open up your duffel bag and take out your gun, twirling it around and letting the cold metal graze your skin. Your phone receives a message with the address and you wince, already knowing that she chose a remote location that would put you at a terrible disadvantage.

You make sure to send out your own SMS before you leave the hotel room.

-.-.-.-.-

"Look at you, still so gorgeous," Rachel beams at you from the middle of the large warehouse. You discreetly dart your eyes around, inwardly counting how many armed men she had in the room— twelve. "How have you been, San?"

"Great," you shrug, forcing yourself to smile at her politely. "Where's the girl who owns the phone you were using?" You ask nonchalantly, you don't want her to know just how important Quinn is to you…

"You mean, your girlfriend?" You snort, forcing laughter to erupt from your throat. "What's so funny?"

"I don't have a girlfriend, Rachel," the statement knots up your stomach, but your voice doesn't waver. _It's the truth anyway… _"She's just a random girl, you should let her go— she's innocent."

"I hate it when you lie to me," she clicks her tongue a couple of times before snapping her fingers, two men disappear but they come back soon enough, hauling a tied-up and gagged Quinn into your view. "It took me years to find you, San," you bury your nails into your palms when you see the brunette approach Quinn, but you stay where you are. "You fell off the face of the earth…"

You cringe when you see her run a finger down Quinn's cheek. You want to yell at Rachel to stop touching her, you want to pull out your gun and shoot Rachel, you want to rip Rachel apart and skin her petite body.

But you don't move a centimeter— you can't do anything rash, not when Quinn's life is in danger.

"I decided to live a quiet life," you mumble out and she chuckles. "Rach, I'm here already, okay? You have me where you want me, just fucking let her go," you step forward, but the chorus of cocking guns makes you retreat. "She's no one…" Quinn looks at you and you avert your eyes to the floor because the dishonest words taste like acid.

"If she's _no one_…" Rachel drawls out, taking a silver pistol from a nearby goon. "Then you wouldn't mind if I—" She presses the muzzle onto Quinn's temple and your eyes widen.

"Don't you fucking dare," you yell out, retrieving your own gun from your hidden holster and aiming it at Rachel's forehead. "We both know I can press this trigger faster than anyone else in this room," you say in a challenging tone. "You'll be dead first," you utter out, disregarding the array of weaponry pointed at you. "Trust me."

"Okay, everyone _relax_," she pulls the gun away from Quinn's head, but you don't move, keeping your sights directed at her. "We're all friends here, right? Down, boys," she commands and her gunmen ease up. "Chill out, S… I can make you a deal," you nod and she raises an eyebrow at your gun so you hesitantly position it towards the ground. "I'll let her go, but you willingly come with me."

"Deal," you reply without missing a beat and Quinn's head snaps towards you. You flash her an apologetic look, but you don't let your eyes stay on her for too long— it hurts. "I'll go with you, just leave her alone for good, alright?"

"Who is this girl and how did she get you like this?" Rachel stares at Quinn's face before shrugging. "Oh well, you idiots heard that— bring her back to her apartment," she orders them with a wave of her hand.

"Wait!" You drop your gun and raise both of your hands up. "Rachel, just let me say goodbye, okay? Please," Rachel stares at you, but you whisper out another broken _'please' _and she gives in. You walk up to Quinn, carefully removing the cloth tied around her mouth. Rachel tells her men to back away a little, supplying you with a bit more privacy.

"Santana, you can't go with her," Quinn whispers out, furiously shaking her head.

"I have to… But you know I love you, right? I'll always love you," you kiss her forehead and close your eyes. "Everything will be okay."

"Nothing is okay," she kisses you right on the lips and you kiss her back. Rachel clears her throat and you sigh heavily before pushing Quinn away. "Santana, I was wrong— I can't—"

"Time's running out, San… Do you want her to live or not?" You step away from Quinn and allow the men to lead her out of the warehouse.

"If you don't keep your _wo_—"

"The blondie will be fine," Rachel turns away from you and you chance a glimpse at your phone.

_**Brittany Pierce: **__Mike and the others are just waiting for your signal. Everything's set and a team is ready to intercept Quinn._

_**Santana Lopez: **__Game time, thanks for planning this, B. I owe you. _

Rachel sees you typing something out on your phone and let the device fall to the floor. "What are you—"

The warehouse doors burst open, distracting everyone in the room. You elbow the closest thug's throat, yanking away his riffle and using him as a human shield while firing at the other men in the room. You appreciatively watch as Mike Chang and his group kill-spray the others that were out of your aim. Rachel gapes at you and you chuckle dryly. "You're an idiot for getting Quinn involved in this shit," you press the opening of the barrel onto her head and gladly pull the trigger, ridding the world of the diva for good.

"God, I haven't had a mission this exciting in a while," Mike walks up to you and bumps fists with yours, you smile before you remember the other part of the plan, your mouth drops open but the Asian agent speaks first. "She's okay, my partner has her— everything went smoothly."

"Oh God, thanks Mike!" You wrap your arms around him, happy tears hanging on your eyelashes and blurring your vision. It's pretty embarrassing, letting yourself show various emotions in front of a group of ruthless agents, but you don't give a fuck.

Quinn's safe an that's all that matters.

"No problem, I'd expect you to be there for me to in case something like this happened to Brittany," you grin at him, bobbing your head up and down.

"I know Britt is your girlfriend, but _duh_ I'd be there, she's my best friend too," you flash him a playful pointed look and he laughs. "She probably won't end up in a situation like this though cause she's _awe_—"

"Santana!" You whip your head around and your heart flutters when you see Quinn running towards you. She jumps on you, wrapping her legs around your body— you easily catch her and lift her off the ground, clutching onto her tightly. She wastes no time, colliding into you for an emotional kiss. "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispers out against your lips before kissing you over and over again.

The kisses are a bit salty because of her dripping tears, but you don't mind— not at all.

_Quinn's safe._

-.-.-.-.-

You awkwardly stand in the middle of the apartment, unsure of what to do or say next. "San—"

"Quinn—" You say simultaneously and you chuckle lightly, telling her to go first.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles out. "I was so stupid for breaking up with you and I'd take it all back if—"

"No, no," you cut her off, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. "You were right— you _are_ right. We can't be together, it's too dangerous and I- I wouldn't know what to do with myself if anything ever happened to you," you brush away the hair covering her eyes. "This was a wake up call, the dream is over."

"Don't say that," she shakes her head— she's crying again and this time you freely let your own tears leak out. "When I woke up all alone, I couldn't breathe. Your side of the bed was empty and I- I just couldn't breathe," she buries her face into your neck and you hold her against you. "I was such an idiot and I'm so _so _sorry."

"Hey, don't call yourself that," you press a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm the one who should be sorry… You almost died because of me, _I'm_ the idiot. I should really just go—"

"I don't want you to leave."

"Q—"

"I know it's going to be hard, alright? I get it, I'm not trained or whatever and it'll be dangerous, but I can't live without you… I _just can't_ so you're not allowed to leave me."

"But it would destroy me if ever you got hurt or—"

"Then don't hurt me by leaving," she interrupts, forcing you to lock eyes with her. "Keep me safe then."

"Quinn, I don't know—"

"I'll tell you everything you need to know, I love you and you love me…" She repeats what you said to her a couple of days ago and your heart melts. "That's all that matters, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, sniffling and pressing your forehead onto hers. She's right, there's no way you can survive without each other. "That's all that matters… _I'll keep you safe, I swear I will_."

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**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


	7. Crave You

**Master AN:** I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

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**Crave You **[M]

**Summary: **Based on the GKM prompt where Quinn is Harley Quinn & Santana is Poison Ivy. Quinntana in the Batman universe! Caution— light bondage & lots of dirty talk.

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It's no secret that she's clinically insane… Come on, the entire population of Gotham knows it, and yet you still keep her around. If you're being honest with yourself, you know that she's more of a liability than an asset, but right now _that_ doesn't matter… Not when her face is currently in between your legs and her tongue is working you towards your second orgasm for the night.

You don't really understand how you ended up in this kind of relationship with Harley Quinn, but you're both okay with the arrangement and that's all that matters, right?

She was once known as Dr. Quinn Charlotte Fabray, but that was a long time ago and now she's just Harley Quinn. You're one of the few people who's actually allowed to call her just _'Quinn' _(sometimes babe or baby) and she's the only one who can use your second name— _Santana_. Oh yeah, some idiots would refer to her as _'The Joker's ex-girlfriend'_, but you make sure to educate whoever is stupid enough to make _that_ mistake with your fists and array of plant toxins.

The Joker's a fucking jerk, a complete psycho, who doesn't know what he's missing… You can still clearly remember the night Quinn came over to your hideout— you don't really get a lot of visitors so the knocking startled you. At first, you thought it was the cops, but then you realized that you haven't committed any crimes lately so you cautiously walked over to the front door and looked through the peephole. And to this very day, what you saw still makes your heart clench…

There was Harley Quinn, the girl with the blinding smile, standing outside your door with tears running down both of her pale cheeks. You weren't sure what to do or why she was there, but she helped you with the police and Batman in the past so she was _sorta_ your friend, which meant you needed to do something.

So you let her in and you let her sleep on your bed… And the next morning she told you that the Joker dumped her for some teenaged bimbo, who doesn't even know how to fire a pistol properly. You comforted her and after a while, you asked why she came to you, but she just brushed the question off and changed the topic.

She ended up living with you because she had nowhere else to go and after a few months of hardly subtle flirting, you two had sex.

_And the sex never really stopped after that point…_

The first time was after you robbed a small bank in West Gotham— there was just something in the way Quinn knocked out all the security guards that sent a shot of arousal to your very core. And as soon as you two were safe, you jumped her. You parked your green car in some hidden alley, quickly got out of the driver's seat and straddled her lap. "You were so fucking hot back there," you rasped out while pressing wet kisses all over her jaw and the column of her neck, you fucked her for the first time right there and then… Not really giving a shit that there were still cops looking for the both of you.

Ever since then, committing crimes became your favorite form of foreplay. You know she gets off on it too, that's why you make sure to always show off by being unnecessarily badass, knowing it'll earn you something extra in bed later on. Breaking Gotham City's laws just really sets both of you ablaze with arousal— the dirty cash is nice and all, but the amazing sex you have with Quinn is something you simply can't buy.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

"What are you doing?" Quinn presses her nose to the side of your neck and inhales deeply causing goosebumps to form on your tanned skin. You carefully place down the dropper filled with potent fertilizer because you don't trust yourself to do things properly when she's _this_ close to you, the proximity sends shivers down your spine.

"Just trying to mutate these seeds," you feel her nod before a light kiss is placed on your cheek. "What's up?"

"I'm bored," you finally look at her and see that her hazel eyes are gleaming with mischief. "I was thinking that we could go on a date tonight…"

"Yeah?" You hold both of her hands in yours and raise an eyebrow, you enjoy the way Quinn initiates these kinds of things so you want to drag it out as long as possible. "What kind of date?"

"You know, the _usual_," she shrugs her shoulders before smirking. She closes the distance between the two of you until her hot breath is ghosting the shell of your ear. "The type of date where we fuck around with the police until I'm begging you to take me home and fuck me _any way _you want."

"My favorite kind of date then," you reply with a smirk of your own, you then try to steal a kiss, but she pulls away at the last second. "Hey, I want a kiss."

"Yeah?" Quinn licks her lower lip and you nod, transfixed by the small gesture. "Then do something to earn it." She winks before breaking away completely, making you groan in sexual frustration. "Come on, let's have some fun."

"Fine, but let's try our best not to end up in jail again, alright?"

"How many times do I have to apologize for that?" She pouts and you roll your eyes because she knows that you can't stand it when she does that. "I really didn't mean for us to get caught, I just needed to fuck you... You were so hot that night, saving me from Batman."

"Yeah, yeah," you swiftly brush off her flattery because you want to head out and get the show on the road already. "Whatever, let's go." You start walking towards the exit, but she grabs your wrist, spins you around and plants one right on your lips. "I thought you said I needed to earn that." You whisper out in a daze after the kiss ends, she just grins and interlaces her fingers with yours before leading you both out of the room.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

"Quinn, shut up, please." You try to cover her mouth, but she playfully bites your palm, you give her a _'what the fuck' _look and she just wiggles her eyebrows. "I'm not kidding, babe, keep quiet."

"But it's oh so boring if no one's chasing after us," she trails a finger down your bare arm before sending you a wink. "We have the jewels, now we need the action."

"Don't you fucking dare—" She intentionally trips a laser beam, sounding the museum's security alarm. You curse under your breath before grabbing her wrist and tugging her in the direction of your car. "If Batman comes, I'm seriously just going to hand you to him."

"You wouldn't do that," Quinn replies smugly, her pink lips forming a smirk. "Cause you still need to get me home so you can fuck me."

"You're seriously something else, Quinn Fabray." You roll your eyes before shoving her into the passenger's seat of your convertible and throwing the bag of rubies onto her lap. "Fuck," the sight of cops makes you jump into your seat and speed off. "Why do you always have to get us into these kinds of situations?" You swerve abruptly causing one of the cop cars behind you to collide with a civilian van.

"I wish you could see yourself right now, _so fucking hot_, Santana." She pulls off her cap, freeing her blonde locks. "Baby, I need you to get us home… _I need you_."

You gawk at her because it's her fault you two are currently delayed. "You can't be serious right now…" She grabs your hand that was on the gear stick and places it in between her legs, allowing you to feel how her body was reacting to the whole predicament.

"Dead serious."

"Fuck me." You squeeze your eyes shut and retract your hand because touching Quinn won't help you escape right now… Especially since there's a squad of officers on your tail. "I guess it's time for your bazooka."

"Yeah?" You nod and she squeals before grabbing the rocket launcher from the back seat. "I love you when you're like this." Your mouth drops open— _did she just say that she loves you?_ You choose to ignore the comment and focus on keeping the car steady so Quinn could get a good shot. "Boom, baby." She takes out more than half of the patrol. "Grr, I forgot to reload this thing, I'm out of ammo."

"It's alright, I'll take care of the rest… Hold the wheel for a sec," you fish out some seeds from the glove compartment and throw them onto the road. They instantly grow into vines, which end up engulfing the two remaining automobiles. "You're just lucky Batman isn't here."

"Babe, I knew Batman wasn't going to show… That's why I tripped the alarm." She tells you confidently and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Catwoman texted me a while ago, asking me if we wanted to join her tonight in downtown Gotham… I'm pretty sure she's keeping the Dark Knight very busy right now."

"Sneaky."

She just shrugs, obviously pleased with herself. You chuckle inwardly, anticipating what's to come as soon as you make it back home, tonight is going to be a fucking good one… You can tell by the way Quinn is restlessly fidgeting in her seat.

_Harley Quinn is horny and so are you._

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

It takes all of your self-control to wait until you get back to the hideout before touching Quinn. Your panties are soaked and you're pretty sure that you would have gone crazy if you both wound up being thrown in jail. You park the car in the garage and head straight to the bedroom, ignoring the puzzled look Quinn was giving you. "Baby?" She calls out as soon as she nears the room, you smirk because you decided that you're in control tonight— especially after that little stunt she pulled. "San—"

"Clothes off now," you order from where you're sitting on the bed, she easily complies and strips off her costume, exposing flawless ivory skin. "You were naughty tonight, weren't you?"

She shakes her head, feigning innocence before dealing with her bra, undoing the clasp and sliding the straps down her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about," she smiles and hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and starts slipping it off. "I was a good girl, I _am_ a good girl." She kneels down on the edge of the bed and begins to crawl towards you like a lion stalking her prey. You shake your head in amusement at the irony— _tonight you're the predator_.

In a few seconds, she was stretched out on top of the sheets, her wrists and ankles bound to each corner by vines. "I warned you, Quinny… I told you not to trip that alarm," you straddle her tummy and delicately run a finger down her cheek, then her jaw and then in between the valley of her breasts. "What if we got caught?" you husk into her ear, loving the way she was squirming underneath you. "I wouldn't be able to fuck you in jail, would I?" You begin to nibble on her ear lobe because you know doing so drives her crazy. "We wouldn't have any fun if we were all locked up…"

"Santana, please just—" She cants her hips upwards, trying to feel something, _anything_, but your position makes it impossible for her. "Okay, okay, I was a bad girl— now please, just fuck me already." You chuckle airily at her futile begging, nights like these were rare and you plan on prolonging it for as long as you can. "Please?"

You click your tongue a couple of times before pressing a quick kiss onto her forehead. "You shouldn't have tripped that alarm, baby," she groans loudly and you fight the urge to laugh since it might kill the mood. "I'm just trying to teach you a lesson."

"Okay, lesson learned, now fuck me," you look into her hazel eyes that were at least two shades darker and note the undeniable lust behind them. "Baby, no more games, come on, I need you." You reach back and cup her center, verifying what she just said and making her release a desperate-sounding noise.

"Look how wet you are," you collect some of the moisture in between your index finger and middle finger, bringing the digits closer to Quinn's face so she can see them glisten in the light. "I think you're enjoying this, Q," you state knowingly before sucking on your own fingers and tasting Quinn for the first time tonight. "Yummy."

She pulls against the restraints, obviously trying to take control of the situation, but it's all in vain. "Bitch."

"What was that?" You roll off of her and climb down the bed, distancing yourself from her naked body. "What did you say?" She smirks and cockily raises an eyebrow at you.

"I called you a bitch," you grin at her innate haughtiness and she beams back, you begin to unfasten the locks of your corset and you allow the green ensemble to fall to the floor and pool around your feet, it's a good thing you're not really a fan of wearing underwear. You watch smugly as Quinn's eyes greedily take in your bare form.

"I'm a _bitch_?" You squeeze one of your tits and release a small moan before moving your hand downwards and using your fingers to play with yourself. "I really don't think now is the time for you to be calling me names, Quinny," you suck in a sharp breath when you enter yourself with two fingers. "You know, I can always leave you here all tied up and just take care of myself."

"But I can do a better job," she pipes out, tugging on the vines again, she sighs defeatedly before a wicked smile flashes on her face. "Let me make up for what I did, San…" She sticks out her tongue and flattens it— making you gulp audibly. As soon as she sees your reaction, her raspy voice fills the sex-charged air once again. "Don't you wanna ride my tongue baby?"

You were planning to tease her more, _you really were_, but Quinn has this face-riding kink and over the course of your relationship it somehow passed on to you too. Her question sparked something within you and in an instant, you were on top of her and your tongue was down her throat. "Why are you so fucking hot?" You struggle out when you were both gasping for oxygen, you trace your thumb over her bottom lip and she nips at it. "Such a pretty little mouth."

"Pretty enough to fuck?"

"Yeah," you nod before pecking at her lips a couple more times. "A bit vulgar, but pretty enough to fuck." You position yourself in a way that her head was in between you thighs, you hold onto the headboard before getting too close, aware that Quinn was talented enough in this area to easily make you lose your balance. You take in a sharp breath before clenching your eyes shut and lowering your pussy close enough for her tongue to reach you. "Oh fuck, Quinn."

You feel her tongue poke its way through you and your knuckles turn white because of how intensely you're gripping the wooden panel in front of you. "You taste so good, San," she rapidly swipes her tongue over your clit and you feel yourself tremble at the sensation. "Ride my face, baby."

You whimper before fulfilling the request, tentatively moving your hips back and forth, allowing your core to glide over her slippery tongue. "Shit," you reach down and tangle your fingers into her hair, angling her head in a way that her face would be buried deeper into your pussy. "It feels so good."

"Babe, I need to touch you, remove the vines or else I'll stop," her halfhearted threat was enough to make you snap your fingers, withdrawing the vines that were hindering her arm movements. She immediately clutches your waist and yanks you downwards, giving herself more access to your center. She sets the pace, making your pussy rub against her mouth at a speed that's going to make you come embarrassingly early. You try to push her head away, but she just relentlessly leans upwards, firmly keeping her mouth on you.

You fall back, aiming to take a breather, but Quinn's flexibility allows her to bend at an extraordinary extent, preventing you to take the much-needed break. "Holy shit," you pant out, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten as her tongue continuously laps up your juices and push its way through your folds. You realize that the vines around her ankles were still in place and you get rid of them so she could be more comfortable— so much for taking control…

_Oh well._

You feel her wrap her lips around your clit and you spasm, losing the fight against gravity. She flips you over with ease and carries on with her ministrations; she looks up, momentarily stunning you with her beauty. You comb away a couple of blonde strands that were covering her eyes and you feel her smile against you. The tiny action makes you unjustifiably nervous, but you tell your mind to shut up and just allow your body to feel.

Solely concentrating on the way her wet tongue was freely slithering inside you and causing you inexplicable pleasure.

"Quinn," you squeeze your eyes close and your mouth falls open as the feeling of ecstasy completely takes over, numbing every single part of your body. The rapture racks through you, sending you into a powerful orgasm that leaves you quivering and choking for air.

You blink a couple of times, decoding the electric jolts that were erratically surging into and out of your body. Quinn lets you down slowly, steadily licking off the sticky wetness coating your thrumming skin. She smirks as soon as she finishes, evidently pleased with herself and her ability to render you speechless. "Are we quits now?"

You breathe in deeply before solemnly nodding, your throat feels rough and your chest is rising and falling at an uneven rate. "Come here," you grasp both of her shoulders with your hands and lift her up until you are looking into her eyes. You place a kiss onto her lips, impatiently parting them with your tongue and entering her mouth. You draw her tongue into your own mouth and kiss her until her levelled breathing diminished into shallow puffs. "Second thought, no, we're not even… _I think I owe you_," you wink at her, situating your tongue on her pulse point and tracing a stripe down her neck.

You encompass one of her little pink nipples with your mouth, swirling your tongue around the perky nub, alternating between her breasts until she harshly tugs on your hair, forcing you to stop. You gaze upwards and you feel your mouth dry up because of the way Quinn's eyes were ablaze with want.

She doesn't even need to say anything anymore, you know exactly what she's asking for. You press your palms flat on the bed's sheets and surge forward for another long kiss, distracting Quinn enough for you to secretly slip two fingers inside her. The unexpected penetration makes her moan into your mouth, you press a last kiss onto her cheek before shifting your head lower, making sure to press as many kisses onto her skin as possible. A smile plays on your lips as soon as you reach your destination, Quinn's scent immediately flooding your lungs. You withdraw your fingers and greedily place them in your mouth, smirking when you see Quinn staring at you through hooded eyes. "San—"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," you kiss her inner thighs, grinning against her skin whenever she would involuntarily shake under the light pressure of your lips. "Where do you need me, Q?" You unnecessarily tease. "_Here_?" You lick a line across her thigh and she shakes her head. "How about… _Here_?" You peck at the skin right above her clit— _close but not close enough_.

"Santana, please." She bucks up into you, groaning when her center comes in contact with your face for a fraction of a second. "No more teasing, I can't take anymore."

"I got you, baby," you mumble out before encircling her clit with your mouth, tracing the nub with your tongue. Her hand lands on the back of your head, pushing you in even deeper. You work her up at a constant speed, tasting her thoroughly, allowing your tongue to prod its way along her slit. When she starts to tense you press your fingertips onto the area of her opening causing her mewl your name. "You need me in here?" You apply a bit more pressure, but not enough to slide inside her.

"Fuck you."

"No, Quinn, _fuck you_," you press harder, intently watching her body take in two of your fingers again— the white heat from her core, spreading through you at light speed. "You're so wet," you smirk before reattaching your lips onto her clit. "Is this what happens when I let you play in Gotham, you get _this_ wet? Or is this because you like it when I tease you, you like it when I make you beg?" Your questions come out in hoarse breaths, your lips vibrating against her, making her clench around your determined fingers.

"_You_ make me wet, San," Quinn props herself up, using her shaky hands, so she can have a better view of you. "You're so sexy," you slow down your thrusts, but still hit that spot inside her the makes her twitch. "I'm always wet for you, please make me come, San."

You let go of her clit and smile before winking at her, you reach up and gently push her shoulder, signalling her to lie back down. You drive your fingers in and out at an unprecedented pace, the squelching sounds were coaching you to go faster despite the fact that your wrist was burning.

You feel her inner walls contract, choking your fingers and flooding them with wetness. You hear Quinn let out a series of profanities, but you're mind is too focused on the way her center was convulsing around you. You let her down slowly, not rushing to remove your fingers.

When she finally stops shaking, you pull out and then proceed to clean the mess you both made. Self-indulgently collecting the remnants of Quinn's orgasm. You lick up a path from her abs, across her chest, through her neck, up until you reach her face. You kiss her on the cheek once before assertively kissing her on the lips, feeling her pant against your mouth. "You're fucking amazing."

You chuckle, but your inborn cockiness makes you nod in agreement. "Go to sleep, beautiful."

"Okay, goodnight, baby," you securely hold her in your arms, throwing a leg over her waist and pressing your face into her neck— she's completely surrounded by you and vice versa. "San?"

"Mmm?" You sleepily hum out, almost sounding incoherent.

"This is _exactly_ why I tripped that alarm," she smugly giggles before kissing your lips one more time and sighing contentedly. You roll your eyes to show irritation, but the smile plastered on your face tells a different story.

It's no secret that she's clinically insane… Come on, the entire population of Gotham knows it, and yet you still keep her around because you constantly crave for her.

_She's just something to look forward to every time you fall asleep at night._

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**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


	8. Brightside— Part One

**Master AN: **I plan on dumping all of my one-shots/prompt fills/shorts here (Fragments) so follow this if you're interested. I want to see how many of these I can post before I turn 19...

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**Brightside **(1/2) [M]

**Summary: **Quinn swaps bodies with Brittany and Santana inadvertently falls harder for her blue-eyed, blonde girlfriend.

**AN:** There's too much going on & it's honestly difficult to find enough time to write properly. :( I'm sorry? But I'm finally back where I should _b_e & I hope that equates to writing at an okay pace again. Or at least the death of my writer's block... Either would be good. Anyway, thank you so much for all of the feedback, patience & stuff! I really appreciate it. x

**Caution:** A substantial amount of Brittana but everyone knows what they're in for, right? Actually, with this one, probably not...

_boringsiot, if I could've, I would've posted this a lot sooner... but these last few months have been uncooperative to say the least lol. well, my goal was to finish this before your birthday and at least in that sense, I didn't fail entirely? I really hope this doesn't disappoint you! advanced happy birthday! _ㇳ3ㇳ4_  
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Quinn grimaces as the blaring noise of some up-to-date electronic song— accompanied by its thumping bass— overwhelms her eardrums despite the fact that she was still meters away from the actual house. She briefly wonders how Puck even gets away with throwing parties like this whenever his family was out of town, she's sure the racket her peers produced was loud enough to infuriate all of the Puckerman family's neighbours to the point where they'd want to call the police.

She shakes away the unimportant thoughts, slowly climbing up the front porch and basically hurling herself into another high school scene that starred stupid teenagers supplied with an obnoxious amount of alcohol from God knows where...

This is the part that she hates the most about her position as head cheerleader... The mandatory attendance to all social gatherings deemed worthy of McKinley's 'elite crowd', which for her, inadvertently means going to a house party almost every week. Exposing herself to a disgusting amount of PDA fuelled by raging teen hormones, subjecting herself to an onslaught of pathetic flirting by people she didn't find even remotely attractive, catapulting herself into another night of insane jealousy—_ courtesy of her two best friends_.

The last one is the worst bit.

The absolute fucking worst...

She hates the way her stomach knots itself whenever her eyes land on Santana and Brittany being all sickly sweet with one another, gazing at each other as if they'd somehow be able to see the goddamn winning numbers for next week's million-dollar lottery in each other's pupils.

A random jock offers to get her a drink mere seconds after she steps through the front door, she nods absentmindedly in response, her masochistic eyes already searching the packed space for a certain couple.

_There they are_, fingers tightly interlaced as Brittany dragged Santana through the crowd, waving around a small Ziploc bag of what appeared to be silver glitter from Quinn's vantage point. The blonde half of the two-shot is clearly already inebriated, her usual dancer's grace gone due to the alcohol in her system. Santana doesn't seem to mind though, loyally tailing her intoxicated girlfriend and making sure Brittany doesn't hurt herself in any way.

Fuck.

"I got you a—" She doesn't even let the hockey player finish his sentence before snatching the wine cooler from his grasp and chugging down the bottle's contents in big, purposeful gulps. She rudely brushes past him right after handing him the empty container, making her way to the large couch in the middle of the living room, where most of the other Cheerios were hanging out— now including Brittany and Santana. A sophomore immediately vacates her spot, freeing a seat for _the_ Quinn Fabray beside her closest friends, which the HBIC gladly takes even if it meant having Brittany in between herself and Santana.

Giving herself a crystal clear view of all their small— _supposedly_ inconspicuous— touches.

"Sup, Fabray?" Santana coolly acknowledges her and she flashes the Latina a tightlipped smile in return, Brittany's reaction to her arrival is a lot more _colorful _though. The blue-eyed cheerleader perks up from where she was resting her head against Santana's shoulder to beam at Quinn widely.

"Quinn, you're finally here! But you're _soo_ late," Brittany slurs out and Quinn tries her best to keep her face stoic because she knows even the slightest negative reaction to Brittany— from anyone— can lead to an unwanted altercation with her extremely protective girlfriend. "The magical deer juice is all gone, Puck and I finished it a while ago and now all the magic we have left is _here_," she raises the plastic bag in her right hand that was in fact full of glitter.

"Magical deer juice?" Quinn repeats, curiously quirking an eyebrow while narrowing her eyes at the peculiar bag of sparkling dust that Brittany was wiggling _right in front_ of her face. Brittany bobs her head up and down excitedly, leaning into Santana for support, Quinn tries her best not to visibly cringe when Santana places a quick kiss onto the side of the other blonde's head. It's fucking stupid how different Santana acts towards Brittany— her natural "badass-ness" disappears, replaced by nonsensical (in Quinn's honest opinion) and uncharacteristic devotion.

It doesn't make sense to her... That's why it was so difficult for her to keep a supportive smile plastered on her face when Santana first mentioned her growing "_feelings_"towards the other member of the Unholy Trinity. She actually _still _doesn't understand their relationship, or how someone as bitchy as Santana can be so patient when it comes to anything and everything that involves Brittany.

Brittany answers an exam using crayons, Santana finds it adorable... Brittany spontaneously wants to go feed the ducks at the ungodly hour of 4AM, Santana happily drives her to the local pond... Brittany believes a fucking baggie of glitter is magical, Santana kisses her...

_The world is so full of bullshit, it's insane._

"She's talking about the bottle of Jäger that Puck and her chugged down a while ago," Santana elucidates in plain and understandable English, wrapping her arms around Brittany's midsection to stop her from wobbling too much. "Remind me to kick that guy in the nuts later on, babe."

"Shh, no violence," Brittany murmurs cutely, twisting her neck so she can chastely kiss Santana on the lips. Quinn averts her eyes, wordlessly counting _'one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi' _in her head until Brittany's voice streams over the pounding music once more, clueing her in that the torturous kiss was over. "Quinn, I think you should catch up." Brittany suggests and she just nods her head, pointing at an open bottle of tequila on the coffee table in front of them. One of the younger Cheerios obediently hands it to her with a grin too wide to be genuine.

She gulps down the golden alcohol— straight from its clear glass container, hoping the liquid would extinguish the burning jealousy in her chest or at least numb her to the point where the ever-present sting would stop throbbing so much. Almost two hours later, it's safe to say that she's beyond tipsy— she's pretty sure that her hangover in the morning will probably require a handful of Advil and a shitload of Gatorade, but at present, tomorrow doesn't matter because the wooziness was helping her ignore the way Santana and Brittany were all over each other.

Alcohol is fucking awesome.

"Hey, slow down a little," she feels a warm palm on her bare shoulder and she looks to her left, where Santana was peering at her, seemingly concerned. She sinks her front teeth into her lower lip, fighting the urge to let her eyes linger on the way Santana's tight red dress was clinging to her amazing body— _again_. Ugh, she's fairly certain she's already gone beyond the daily limit that she set for herself with regard to _discreetly_ checking the Latina out... "I don't think I can handle taking care of two drunk blondes tonight," Santana chuckles and Brittany laughs along.

"No worries, you don't have to take care of me," Quinn replies indifferently, tearing her eyes away from the couple for what felt like the nth time to try and focus on the mundane conversation that Sam Evans was striking up with her. The group eventually passes around a newly opened bottle of vodka and Quinn guzzles it down like it's water during her turn before letting Brittany have a go at it. Quinn eventually notices that Santana wasn't touching any of the drinks. "Why aren't you..?" She clumsily points at the vodka, which was now with Sugar, unable to complete her sentence.

"I drove tonight," Santana shrugs her shoulders and Quinn nods in understanding, knowing Santana never drove under the influence because of what happened to her older brother. "How are you going home?"

"I don't know yet, my mom dropped me off on her way to my aunt's," she answers, exerting effort to sound as coherent as possible, she then squints at Sam. "Sam, can you—"

"I might as well drop you off," Santana interrupts her and Brittany nods vehemently before freezing and clutching her temples with both hands. "Babe, I think it's time for us to go, you seem done for the night," Santana tells her girlfriend worriedly and Quinn has to stop herself from visibly rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, kay, let's get out of here," Brittany gets up first, standing on unstable feet before extending one of her hands to Santana and the other to Quinn. "What if we have an Unholy Trinity sleepover tonight?" Quinn and Santana both start shaking their heads in protest, but Brittany just grins and grabs onto their forearms, clumsily leading the way out of the dying party.

/x/x/x/x/

Quinn would've been totally okay with an _'Unholy Trinity sleepover'_ if they were still a bunch of innocent freshmen without a care in the world... But she's not okay with sleeping in the same room with both Brittany and Santana _now_— not when she should be doing _everything_ she can to lower the risk of anyone finding out that she's secretly attracted to Santana.

Fuck her life.

It's not like her opinion/vote really matters though... So what if this impromptu sleepover is taking place in _her _empty house? She has no say in things because it's common knowledge in Lima that Santana is absolutely incapable of saying no to one of Brittany Pierce's infamous pouts. And _that's_ how the couple ended up inside Quinn's bedroom for the night, intruding on the blonde's much-needed alone time.

Again, fuck her life.

"This is so awesome!" Brittany squeals in delight, ungracefully falling backwards onto Quinn's bed. "I missed your room, Q."

"Mhmm," Quinn hums back preoccupied, sitting in front of her mirror and using special wipes to remove her smudged makeup. It's ridiculous how quickly she sobered up once the reality of the situation dawned upon her... Her stomach churns uncontrollably when she catches a glimpse of Brittany pulling Santana on top of her from one of the corners of the mirror. She crumples the towelette in her hand with more than enough force to turn her knuckles white.

"Britt... _Stop_." She overhears Santana breathe out and she squeezes her eyes shut, wishing the floor would magically open up and swallow her whole. She briefly wonders if this was Karma's merciless way of getting back at her for being such a bitch all the time... "You should sleep, babe."

"But I'm too hyper to sleep..." Brittany whines in response. "We should drink some more."

"I told you to lay off the Red Bull," Santana chastises through a sigh, but Brittany completely ignores her remark, rolling off the bed and moving towards Quinn. "Where—"

"Quinn, are you game to drink some more?" Brittany asks from where she was towering over the Cheerio's captain and Quinn turns around, seeing Santana shake her head and mouth out a _'no' _in the background. Quinn smirks evilly and nods in approval, allowing Brittany to pull her up to her feet. "Two against one, monarchy rules... We win."

"Babe, I think you mean _democracy_..."

"No, I meant _monarchy _because _duh_ Quinn's the queen," Brittany replies matter-of-factly and Quinn actually chuckles, hooking her arm through Brittany's. "So... Do you have anything to drink, Q?"

"I remember my mom saying something about having a few bottles of champagne leftover," she answers, already tugging Brittany towards the exit of her room. _More alcohol will help... Definitely._ "Come on, Lopez, no more designated driver bullshit to save your ass this time!" She tosses over her shoulder, knowing it will rile Santana up enough to join them.

And, she's right— Santana quickly follows and they all search the kitchen, finding two unopened bottles of fancy bubbly that they quickly haul back to the room.

_Mm, she's pretty sure she knows Santana better than anyone._

/x/x/x/x/

Quinn hates to admit it, but she's having fun right now.

Stumbling around her bedroom with her two oldest friends, dancing cloddishly to the loud music blasting out of her sound system. Her vision is blurry and she's spacing out every other minute but she can't deny how much she's enjoying herself. She knows Santana drank the bulk of the champagne but Brittany and her had more than enough to restart their inebriation.

Her skin feels warm as if there's a thin pleasant fire flowing through her veins. The distinct sound of lips colliding knocks her out of her daze though and she winces when she sees Brittany and Santana making out, as if they somehow entered their own world— one where it's completely okay to kiss with abandon.

And without courtesy to the person who _owns_ the bedroom they were in...

She sits down on the edge of her bed, glueing her eyes to the floor so she wouldn't have to stare at the busy couple any longer. She needs to make them leave... This won't work out—_ no way_. "Britt, I don't know about this," she hears Santana husk out and she shakes her own head, willing away the chaos in her mind and struggling to come up with a convincing excuse to get her friends to get the fuck out. "Britt!"

She snaps her head up because of the noticeable increase in volume of Santana's voice, coming face-to-face with a grinning Brittany Pierce. "What's _u_—" Before she can even make the popping sound at the end of the short question, Brittany leans forward and kisses her. The taller blonde's thin lips pressing against her own— moving against her own. Her eyes widen as they lock onto Santana who was staring at them with rapt attention, she waits for the possessive Latina to yell at them to break it off but the stretched seconds of silence and the feeling of Brittany's tongue slipping into her mouth forces her to finally focus on the unexpected kiss.

She starts kissing Brittany back without cutting the intense eye contact between herself and Santana, she wonders what kind of thoughts were swirling inside her other best friend's head right now. Brittany abruptly breaks the kiss and twists her neck around to face her tranced girlfriend. "What are you waiting for?" Santana audibly sighs through her nose before shaking her head and emptying the bottle that she was still clutching onto, letting it fall onto the carpeted floor afterwards.

"Nothing," Santana stalks her way up to the other two and immediately pulls Brittany into a rough kiss, tugging on the taller blonde's lower lip with her sharp teeth. "Are you sure about this?" Quinn knows that she should speak up now that her mouth is free, but she merely purses her lips and stares on— studying Brittany and Santana's facial expressions. Brittany nods her head as clearance and Santana wastes no time before locking her eyes onto hazel orbs. "How about you, Q?"

The question catches Quinn off-guard, she was _so _sure that Santana wouldn't care about what she had to say in the matter. "Umm, I don't know, I already told you I'm not really into _that_," her lie is unconvincing to say the least, which is why she isn't surprised when Santana responds with a challenging quirk of an eyebrow. "You two can just go to the guest room if you need to—"

She's partly glad that Santana cut her off because she wasn't entirely sure about what she was going to say next. But she mostly hates it because Santana's face was significantly closer now, placing plump lips directly in her line-of-sight. She's wanted this for as long as she can remember—_ it's impossible to say no_— not when she can feel Santana's breath on her skin, setting all of her nerves ablaze with lust. "Or you can pretend that stick up your ass miraculously disappeared for a night and let yourself have fun for once, Fabray."

"I—" Whatever counterargument Quinn had mentally concocted died on her tongue as soon as Santana kissed her. It's a world away from her earlier kiss with Brittany, it feels different— _it feels good_. She imagines a miniature cartoon angel and devil on her shoulders, informing her about the pros and cons of the dangerous predicament, trying to convince her to side with one of them.

It's silly that the angel thinks it even has a fighting chance...

She kisses back with the same intensity, maybe even more, deciding that she'll just have to write the whole ordeal off as some alcohol-induced lapse of judgment in the morning. Santana tastes like sweet wine and something else that she couldn't exactly name, all Quinn knows is that she was right for wanting _this_ as badly as she did because _dear God_, it feels so fucking good. Her eyes roll backwards— hidden under her closed eyelids— when Santana slips a tongue through her compliant lips.

She can't believe this is actually happening.

Seriously... How much alcohol did she drink? Enough to become delusional?

She's so lost in the euphoric feeling that she almost doesn't recognize the feeling of her skirt's zipper being unfastened. When she finally (reluctantly) puts an end to the kiss, she sees that Brittany already stripped down to her lacy underwear and was now in the process of removing her girlfriend's clothes. Quinn scoots back onto the bed and leans against the pillows by her headboard, silently watching the other pair as she willed her heartbeat to slow down a little.

This entire fiasco is so surreal that she wonders about her sanity's current condition or if the alcohol in her system was enough to make her hallucinate... Or she could also be dreaming, ugh.

She quickly rationalizes that if this whole thing was merely a vivid dream, Brittany wouldn't be in it at all. There's no way her subconscious would fantasize about Brittany Pierce in this way, not when Santana Lopez has occupied her daydreams for the better part of their 4-year stay in McKinley.

So, this is _really_ happening...

She's not stupid, she realizes that this could all just be part of the couple's sexual bucket list or something— 'a threesome, _un ménage à_ _trois_, with their closest friend'. But _really_, this is probably her one and only chance to be with Santana intimately... And, it's also the last few weeks of Senior year, she's more than allowed to be a reckless teenager after going through the hell known as _'growing up in Lima, Ohio'_.

It's fine, this won't change anything. Her plans are basically set in stone so after this little _one-time-thing— _that'll hopefully pacify her curiosity forever— she's going to stick to the main plan by graduating, packing up her bags and leaving for New Haven as if nothing happened. Again, this won't change anything, it _can't_... "Hey, Quinn, you okay over there?"

"I'm fine," the perceptible raspiness of her voice catches all of their attention and she feels her cheeks flush, she averts her gaze downwards when two pairs of darkened eyes lock onto her face. She hears Santana let out a short throaty chuckle and Brittany's chastising _'shh' _before the bed dips and her half-naked friends join her on top of the sheets. Her whole body becomes rigid when she feels warm puffs of air on her left calf, she raises her head and Santana smirks at her before trailing kisses up Quinn's noticeably tense leg. "What are you d-doing?"

"Like you just said, _you're fine_," Brittany answers for Santana in a reassuring tone before reaching out and tilting Quinn's chin so their lips could meet again. Quinn tries to keep up with Brittany's movements but all of her senses were currently captivated by the feeling of Santana's mouth moving higher and higher, _closer and_ _closer_. She pulls away from the kiss with a gasp when her unzipped skirt is yanked down her hips, Santana takes the opportunity to also tug off her top, leaving her also clad in only her underwear. Santana's intense stare scatters goosebumps allover her skin and sends a fiery shiver down the entire length of her spine.

"God damn it, you're beautiful," it's unfair, Santana shouldn't be directing _those_ words at her, unknowingly ripping her insides apart. Quinn clenches her jaw before grabbing the back of Brittany's neck and pulling her into the roughest kiss yet— she needs to remind herself that this whole thing is about sex, emotionless and meaningless teenaged sex. When the sun rises, she's still going to be single and Santana will still be with Brittany, no matter how much her heart wishes that weren't the case.

She closes her eyes and forgets all logic and reason, allowing her carnal urges to completely take over. "Lie down," Brittany gently pushes Quinn's shoulders before ripping off her own bra and shimmying her panties down her long legs. Quinn immediately averts her eyes upwards, realizing just how different this was from all the other times she's seen another girl naked. This was nothing like accidentally catching a peep during after-practice showers... _Crap._

"Stop thinking," Santana commands in a wickedly raspy voice, reaching behind Quinn and expertly unhooking the clasp of her bra without looking. "Just _feel_," and fuck, that's exactly what she did_—_ _feel_— unreservedly losing herself in the feeling of Santana's amazing lips around one of her nipples, the feeling of Santana's tongue repeatedly tracing circles that were sending shot after shot of arousal to her very core. Fuck... She's never been this turned on in her life, she actually thinks it's possible for her body to spontaneously combust any second now. She closes her eyes, memorizing the sensations caused by Santana's mouth alternating between her breasts— sucking, licking, nipping. Her eyelids snap open though when she feels fingertips on top of her underwear, she peers down and sees Santana's motionless hand on her still-covered center. "We don't have to if you—"

Quinn doesn't even let her finish the sentence, she gets rid of the last barrier on her own, fully exposing her naked self. She honestly didn't need anymore convincing but the fact that Santana actually cared about her consent fuelled the fire growing within her. She almost forgets that Brittany was also on the same bed but it's obvious that Santana was still very much aware of her girlfriend's presence. She watches as the two have a silent conversation, which ended with the slightest nod from Brittany. There isn't time for her to decipher or process anything further though because before she knows it, Santana was positioning herself in a way that her face was in between pale legs...

In between Quinn's legs.

She's had countless wet dreams that exhibited this specific image, none of them could've done the real thing justice though... There's still music playing in the background and Brittany's still just a few inches away but all her concentration was on Santana,_ nothing else_. Completely spellbound by the moment— the closeness of Santana's lips to her sex, close enough for her to feel warm air on her drenched center, coating her skin with another onslaught of goosebumps.

Santana's mouth finally touches her wet folds and she lets out the loudest moan yet. "Oh fuck," she bites her inner cheek, restricting the rest of the expletives that were hanging on her tongue, neither Santana nor Brittany can find out how badly she's wanted this, they can't know how deep her feeling for Santana are...

Which is why she blindly reaches out for Brittany once more, forcing herself to act as if she wasn't utterly hypnotized by the pleasure Santana was giving her... The feeling of a slick tongue running up and down the length of her slit, lapping up her seemingly never-ending juices, making her experience a type of pleasure she's never encountered before. She kisses Brittany out of need more than anything else, as a desperate way to stifle truth, a way to prevent her from saying something too raw.

A kiss to render herself mute and smother all of the inappropriate confessions and professions that were playing on her lips.

The obligatory lip lock still ends though— she's still human, she still needs to breathe... And her lungs were having the hardest time right now, actually, _scratch that_, all of her vital organs are finding it difficult to function properly. Her brain can't process all of the sensations quick enough, her heart is painfully hammering away at her ribs, her stomach is overflowing with butterflies... Her _everything_ was being infused with Santana. She buries her face into Brittany's neck, desperately trying to catch her fleeting breath as Santana continued to lift her higher and higher off the ground.

She's never felt anything like this before...

A droplet of sweat trickles down the side of her face and she feels Brittany's soft hands move to her chest as the blonde lowered her mouth to her neck, Santana was making it virtually impossible for Quinn to focus on anything_ other than her_ though... She lets out an embarrassingly loud moan when Santana's tongue swipes over her clit causing her entire body to tremble in place, and before she's ready (not that she could've done anticipated any of this), Santana's lips were encompassing the sensitive bud, skilfully sucking and massaging— _drowning Quinn in unadulterated pleasure_.

She impulsively cants her hips forward, impelling Santana to press a palm onto her flat tummy and keep her in place. "Oh God," she squeezes her eyes shut and blindly snakes a hand down to thread her fingers through raven-colored hair, instinctively guiding Santana's face deeper as she widened the gap between her thighs. It feels like electricity is surging through her bloodstream, gradually charging every fiber of her being until she felt inexplicably weightless. "S-Santana—"

"She's good at that, huh?" Brittany's voice fills the air and reality comes crashing back, dragging Quinn out of the fantasy she unintentionally immersed herself in. "S, do the tongue thing I like," the unwanted allusion to the couple's private trysts made Quinn cringe slightly. She mentally reminds herself that no matter how right it feels to be with Santana in this way, it's still never going to happen again, this would be the first and _last_ time.

But the emotional pain is overpowered by pleasure in mere seconds, temporarily forgotten as Santana's tongue slowly pushed its way through her opening causing another torrent of moisture to gush out of her clenching sex. _Fucking A... _She hastily withdraws her hand from the back of Santana's head, opting to bite the inside of her wrist to suppress her screams instead. She distractedly tugs on the bedspread, dislocating the garters on its upper corners by tightly balling the material in her left fist. She arches her spine, losing control of her actions and surrendering herself to Santana's ministrations.

Her eyes suddenly roll into the back of her head— she's _so_ close to coming, a few more seconds of Santana's tongue inside her and she'll _finally_ get the release she's been lusting for since she came to terms with her little crush on her second-in-command. But as per usual, Santana has to unnecessarily complicate things, pulling away without warning, a sinful smirk displayed on her unearthly face. "What the hell, S?"

Santana lets out a low chuckle and Brittany curiously raises an eyebrow while Quinn seethes in place, more than familiar with how the Latina's brain worked by now. Santana obviously wants to rile her up some more and even if Quinn hates to admit it, Santana's innate cheekiness was such a fucking turn-on... Ugh.

"_I'm flattered Santana_, _but I'm really not_ _that_ _into that_," Santana imitates teasingly and Quinn's cheeks begin to burn, a deep scarlet tinting her face, ears and neck. "What happened, Quinny?"

Quinn sits up, resting her weight against her elbows to look Santana in the eye. "What the _fu_—" Santana presses her thumb onto Quinn's clit, interrupting the start of her tirade and forcing her to fall back onto the pillow underneath, helpless. "Santana..." She covers her face with both of her palms, her limbs quivering as Santana began repeatedly outlining the small bundle of nerves. "_P__lease just_..."

"Hmm?" Santana evilly stops moving her hand again and Quinn grits her teeth, desperately frustrated. "What do you need me to do, _captain_?"

Quinn drops her hands in defeat and swallows thickly before answering in a hushed voice. "Just make me feel good." Santana's face softens at the perceptible honesty and Brittany elbows her girlfriend in the ribs. A renewed heat spreads through Quinn's face after she realizes how pathetic she sounded. She sits up again, intending to run away and pretend that the last hour or so of her life didn't happen, but Brittany stops her, guiding her back down and keeping her there with a deep kiss.

The unwanted space between her sex and Santana's mouth quickly disappears, and she is dragged back to the edge faster than she was prepared for. Santana relentlessly laps at her thrumming skin, an experienced tongue sliding across her wet folds. Her body involuntarily starts to shake as the pressure building inside her hits a new peak and Brittany licks a path down to her chest, supporting Santana's endeavor by paying attention to Quinn's perky breasts.

Santana pulls her lips away without warning, but before Quinn can complain, a pair of fingers were squeezing through her entrance. Wiggling purposively until Santana was knuckle-deep inside her, until her inner walls were choking slender digits. "Oh fuck me," she breathes out distractedly, mentally berating herself for ever thinking that she was 100% straight. Santana starts to move her hand at a steady pace, listening to Quinn's moans, interpreting when she should tug her fingers out and when to drive them back in. "_Faster_."

"Do you always have to be so bossy?" Santana whispers out through another mocking smirk before she obediently increases the pace, she then moves her mouth back down to Quinn's clit, timing the swipes of her tongue with the thrusts of her left wrist. The volume of Quinn's screams escalates, rivalling that of the reverberating electronic music. Her vision becomes unfocused and she blankly stares at the ceiling, unsure of how to deal with the pleasure that was overriding her senses. She decides to weakly crane her neck, memorizing the image of Santana's godly face pressed between her legs. Their gazes reconnect and Santana mumbles something against her— three simple words. "Come for me."

_Me. _

That word is the only thing she sees when her eyelids meteorically closed. A spectrum of bright colors serving as its background as she uncontrollably clenched around Santana's dextrous fingers. Molten heat explodes inside her tummy as she free falls from an impossible height, physically tensing up and curving her spine as she was utterly shattered by the unearthly orgasm racking through her. She feels her teeth chatter, her voice getting stuck somewhere in her throat while Santana kept moving inside her, drawing out Quinn's ecstasy and greedily licking up the sticky juices that were dribbling out of her quivering core.

She feels a rush of oxygen depart her lungs, her body melting into her high-thread-count sheets as her bones and muscles gave up on her completely for the first time in her life. She feels drugged, the continuos spasms drains her body of all remaining energy and abandons her in a state wherein she can simultaneously feel everything and nothing. Her second orgasm strikes her out of nowhere, and she loses her grip around reality as soon as she reenters the real world.

She suffocates again.

Life's breath gets knocked out of her as pleasure tantamount to euphoria pierces through her once more. She instinctively shields her sensitive center with her sluggish right hand when the feeling becomes too much, cringing away from Santana's touch as she silently dealt with the tremors that were still running through her. "Shit," she sucks a sharp breath through her nostrils, trying her best to normalize her highly erratic breathing and heartbeat. She feels a trail of light kisses land on her skin, drawing a track up her body until Santana's lips were yet again a hair's breadth away from her own.

She knows that the minimal proximity between their faces was detrimental and dangerous but she didn't care. Why would she breathe in air when she can breathe in Santana? "Fuck, I wish you can see yourself when you come, _so hot_," she wonders if Santana's bold compliments were appropriate, but she realizes that tonight, there are no rules, tonight they're all shunning away reason. Santana's lips crash into hers and she feels her calves twitch when she swallows a moan from her best friend's mouth. She barely has the strength to kiss back but Santana easily takes the lead, goading Quinn's tongue into action.

"I think you broke her," Brittany chuckles out and Santana laughs, pulling away from Quinn and finally giving her real girlfriend some attention. "Mm, you taste good, Quinn," Brittany announces after making out with Santana for a few seconds, flashing Quinn a suggestive grin. Quinn blushes for the nth time tonight, still catching her fleeting breath. "I have an idea!" The blue-eyed blonde yells out excitedly, scrambling out of the bed and grabbing her small baggie of glitter from the floor. "While Quinn recharges, let's use the magic dust!"

"Baby, are you still drunk?" Santana asks lovingly and Quinn secretly rolls her eyes, willing herself to brush off the jealousy before someone notices. Quinn hears Brittany whine quietly and she already knows that Santana wasn't going to put up much of a fight. That's why when Brittany places a pinch of glitter in her palm and tells her to make a wish, she's only partly confused. She watches as Santana blows the sparkling dust off her skin first, sending a cloud of glitter through the air and away from the bed. Brittany goes next, she then pulls Quinn up into a sitting position, encouraging her to do the same thing.

She fakes a convincing smile, blowing the glitter away as she inwardly planned how she was going to clean her floor later on.

"Yay!" Brittany squeals and Santana giggles before tackling the other blonde into the tangled up sheets and kissing her eagerly. Quinn sighs, preparing herself for the rest of the _battle_. She's in too deep now, she needs to see it through. So she fastens another smile across her lips and begins to let her hands wander innocently, playing a role as she helped Santana work up Brittany's body. She sweeps all selfishness to the back of her mind, willing herself to be strong.

She has to deal with the consequences of succumbing to the temptation. Is it worth it? She's not entirely sure, but something in her gut tells her that she would've regretted it more if she didn't experience any of this. Looking at the brightside, at least she's now certain that being with Santana would feel nothing less than magical...

_Hearts on the run, wasted and young. Every mistake stung till I was numb. _

/x/x/x/x/

"Baby," Santana nudges her nose with her own and she draws her eyebrows together, refusing to open her eyes. "Baby, I have to go home, my mamí needs my help with something," Quinn keeps her eyes closed, barely clinging onto sleep. "Just tell _Quinn_ to drop you home when she wakes up," a soft kiss lands on Quinn's lips and she finally snaps her eyes open, utterly confused. Before she can say anything though, Santana whispers out a quiet _'you should go back to sleep, B' _before rolling out of the bed and putting on her discarded clothes. She leaves before Quinn's brain could even start working properly.

She's hungover, her body is sore and she doesn't understand why the fuck Santana kissed her.

Was Santana _that_ hungover? She couldn't distinguish Quinn from her own girlfriend?

Before going to sleep last night, Quinn kept repeating to herself that what they all did meant nothing. It's just young stupid meaningless sex, fuelled by the abundance of teenaged hormones in their bodies. That's why the kiss earlier is so damn disconcerting— it was a one-time thing, so now that it's over, their usual boundaries should be back up and stronger than ever, right? Kisses on the lips were once again off-limits...

She shakes her head, grimacing when she realizes the intensity of her hangover. She swipes the back of her hand over her lips, wiping away the sweet taste Santana left there before stretching her arms upward and cracking a couple of joints. She looks around the room, noting that the place was still a big mess. Her eyes finally land on the other side of her bed and she feels all the blood drain from her face.

She sees her own body, sprawled over the sheets, completely naked.

Her own body.

She rubs her eyes, blinking profusely, wondering if she was still asleep or something. She reaches out and pokes her own skin, rousing the sleeping finger awake. "Mmm," she hums out before her eyes slowly flutter open, they visibly widen after a few seconds though. "Who are you?"

"Quinn. Who are you?"

"Brittany..." '_Brittany_' sits up, not bothering to cover up at all as she inspected her own body. "Quinn, why are you in my body?"

"Why are you in mine?" Quinn demands in a louder, more alarmed tone. "What the fuck is going on right now?"

"I'm not yet sure but you should calm down... Where's Santana?"

"She left, something about her mom, I'll tell her to come back," Quinn scrambles out of the bed, intending to grab her phone but Brittany stops her by pulling her back down. "What the hell, Britt?"

"Don't call Santana!" Brittany shouts out. "You're just going to freak her out, so _please_ don't."

"Britt, _I'm _freaking out," Quinn rationalizes but Brittany shakes her head, pouting. "Fine, do you have a better idea?"

"No, but Santana hates paranormal stuff like this. I swear, you're just going to scare her..."

"Well, I'm scared," Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose, looking away as she silently began to pray, she stopped midway though, realizing that she should probably get out of bed and fix herself a little before she asks God for anything. "This can't be real," she mutters out when her own shirt from her own closet was too short to cover Brittany's torso. She tugs it off and settles for a zip-up hoodie, clean underwear and girl boxers. "Wear anything you want, I'm going downstairs to get some Advil." She inattentively throws the words over her shoulder, quickly leaving the room, rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen. She grabs a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and two Advil pills, which she quickly chugs down, in hopes of mollifying her hangover and escaping the nightmare she found herself in.

/x/x/x/x/

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I body swapped with Lord Tubbington for a few hours when I was a kid," Brittany offers in a reassuring voice. "But my older sister said it was all in my head and I needed to stop watching Batman cartoons."

"What?"

"Catwoman is hot," Brittany shrugs and Quinn rested her forehead on the cold marble of her kitchen counter, silently debating with herself whether or not she should try repeatedly hitting her head on the hard surface. "Hey, it's okay, I promise we'll figure this out soon," Brittany squeezes her shoulder supportively and Quinn manages a small smile in response. "At least we swapped bodies with each other, right? I mean, I'm just glad someone my body was stolen by someone I actually like."

"Brittany, you like everyone," Quinn replies and Brittany shakes her head at first but ultimately nods.

"Well, that's true, but I think I'd only be willing to switch bodies with you or Santana," Brittany muses, as if this whole body swapping thing was an ordinary exercise. "You two are like my favorite people in this world..." Quinn's about to say something but her home phone starts ringing, interrupting their talk. She picks up the handset and takes the call.

"Hello?"

_"Britt, you're still at Quinn's? I tried calling your cell a while ago but you weren't picking up." _

"Umm, _yeah_, I think I left my phone upstairs," Quinn looks at Brittany for help but the other blonde shrugs a shoulder, also lost. "Don't worry, Q's dropping me in a while though, we were just dealing with our hangovers but yeah, I'll be home soon..."

_"I told you the Jäger wouldn't be your friend in the morning," _Santana teases. _"Alright, babe, can you hand the phone to Quinn? Oh and, text me when you get home." _Quinn swiftly gives the receiver to Brittany, relieved that her conversation with Santana would be over. She listens to the one-sided conversation, hearing nothing but '_yeah_'-s and '_okay_'-s leave Brittany's mouth. When Brittany puts the phone down, Quinn raises an eyebrow.

"Uh, Santana said— _'I hope you're not fucking freaking out cause of last night... Anyway, if you need to talk, hit me up'_," Brittany relays verbatim, and Quinn embarrassedly averts her eyes elsewhere as the recent memories come rushing back. "You know that she _really_ cares about you, right?"

"Yeah, whatever, tell her I'm fine... Last night was fun, but it meant nothing," Quinn states impassively before pushing herself away from the counter and mumbling something about getting their phones from the room.

_It meant nothing._

* * *

**AN: **Drop me a review, I'd love to know what you think. :)


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